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FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


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BY    THE    WAYSIDE; 


Religious  anil  domestic  Deems, 


LYDIA    BAXTEE 


X  E  W     Y  0  R  K  . 
SHELDON,    LAMPORT    &    BLAKEMAK, 
115    NAUSAU    STREET. 

18  5  5. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Conere**,  in  the  year  1854, 

BY  JOHN  C.  BAXTER, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


ST£HKO : Y H K D     HT  PRTNTKD      BY 

THOMAS    B     SMITH.  HOLMAU     &    GRAY, 

216  William  St.,  N.  Y.  Cor.  White  &  Centre  Sta. 


TO    MY    HUSBAND, 
JOHN     O.     BAXTER, 

OF      NEW      YORK, 

THE    COMPANION    OF    MY    JOYS    AND    SORROWS, 

Sijesc    images 

ARE      AFFECTIONATELY      DEDICATED 

BY    THE    AUTHOR. 


f  TttSZl. 


It  is  with  peculiar  feelings  that  I  present  to  the  pub- 
lic this  book  of  verse ;  being  aware  that  it  will  meet 
the  keen  eye  of  the  critic.  Some  of  my  productions 
have  appeared  as  fugitive  pieces  in  various  religious 
Magazines  and  Periodicals  of  the  day ;  there  is,  there- 
fore, less  to  be  anticipated  on  that  score,  than  if  they 
were  all  fresh  culled.  If  the  mind  of  the  reader  is 
not  elevated  with  flights  of  the  imagination,  the  heart 
may  be  cheered  and  encouraged,  as  it  participates  with 
the  writer  in  the  joys  that  flow  from  that  pure  stream 
which  meanders  through  the  valley  of  humiliation. 

Many  of  these  effusions  have  been  pencilled  while 
suffering  affliction  from  the  hand  of  a  merciful  God; 
some  from  incidents  that  have  occurred   by  the  way- 


VI  PREFACE. 

side ;  others  by  the  request  of  friends,  who  are  now 
desirous  to  meet  them  in  the  form  of  a  book. 

This  is  the  only  department  in  the  vineyard  of  my 
Master  in  which  I  have  been  able  to  labor  for  sever- 
al years  ;  and  if  some  little  good  shall  be  the  result, 
I  feel  that  my  reward  will  be  ample. 

New  York,  July,  1854. 


0  1t  t  t  It  t  8 


PAGE 

A  Brother's  Influence 1 33 

Ada's  Grave 179 

A  Dream  of  Childhood 97 

A  Dream  of  Heaven, 121 

A  Dream  of  the  Fountain  of  Pleasure 67 

A  Firm  Resolve 267 

A  Hymn  for  Social  Worship 239 

Alone  with  God 47 

Although  our  Happy  Voices 222 

,  A  Missionary  Hymn 208 

A  Morning  Hymn 238 

A  Morning  in  May 91 

A  Mother  to  her  Daughter  on  the  eve  of  her  marriage 23 

An  Acrostic 179 

An  Emblem 86 

An  Emblem  of  Life  59 

A  New  Year's  Hymn 218 

An  Incident  on  the  steamer  Empire 115 

Annual  Hymn 217 

Another  Year 226 

Anticipation 99 

A  Scene  at  the  Battle  of  Monterey 55 

A  Scene  on  the  Jordan 44 

Autumnal  Breathings 77 

A  voice  from  the  Grave  of  a  Suicide 263 

Bartimeus 351 

Behold  your  King 27 


V1U 


CONTENTS. 


PAGH 

Childhood 138 

Christmas  Hymn 48 

Christ  our  Life 231 

Christ  riding  into  Jerusalem 168 

Christ's  Submission 250 

Christ,  the  Sinner's  Substitute 234 

Christ  Walketh  on  the  Sea 110 

Come,  talk  to  me  of  Jesus 154 

Comfort  in  Affliction 42 

Communion  Hymn 241 

Contrition 233 

Comstock,  the  Missionary 198 

Death 94 

Death  of  a  Sabbath-school  Scholar 142 

Death  of  the  First-born 62 

Dedication  Hymn 271 

Earth's  Loveliness 13 

Elijah  on  Mount  Horeb 114 

Evening  Hymn 242 

Exti-act  of  a  letter  to  a  Eriend 58 

Farewell  to  my  Husband 281 

Friend  of  Children 216 

From  our  Beloved  Nation 207 

For  an  Album 83 

For  an  Album 70 

God's  Love  for  the  Sinner 246 

Grand-Pa  and  Rosa, 181 

Grog-shops  and  Distilleries 257 

Hawthorn  in  Australia 109 

He  doeth  all  Things  well 93 

His  Love  we  will  Remember 219 

I  love  to  think  of  Heaven 33 

Immanuel.  God  with  us 89 

Jesus  His  flock  to  Glory  leads 245 

Jesus  Wept 116 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAGE 

Kedron's  Vale 213 

Keep  thy  Heart  with  all  Diligence 183 

Kincaid,  Eugenic- 21 L 

Kindness 20 

Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you 243 

L  ife  a  Vapor 230 

Lines  to  a  Missionary  in  South  Africa 81 

Lines  to  my  absent  Husband 277 

Lines  to  my  Brother 66 

Lines  to  ray  Husband 275 

Lines  to  the  Children  of  Messrs.  Brown  and  Barker 195 

Lines  to  Rev.  J.  L.  Suck 203 

Lines  to  William  T.  Biddle 199 

Little  Alie 157 

Little  Ann  and  the  Pigeon 129 

Little  Bell 158 

Little  Katy 155 

Little  Susan 132 

Lords-Day  Morning  Hymn 236 

Love  of  the  Sabbath 240 

Marriage 275 

May  I  attain  that  Rest 249 

My  Bouquet 107 

My  Friend 101 

My  Native  Land 118 

My  Rose  Tree 19 

My  S  pinning-wheel 102 

Natural  Love  of  Liberty 175 

Oh  stay  thou  lovely  Summer 31 

Oh  take  the  Pledge 266 

On  the  arrival  of  the  Hawthorn  in  Australia 109 

One  Cent  more 215 

Our  Glory  like  a  Flower 235 

Peek-a-boo  with  Angels 173 

Prayer 241 

Prayer  of  Mary.  Q.aeen  of  Scots 52 

Presence  of  the  Lord * 237 

Prophets  by  faith  beheld  the  day 233 

1* 


X  CONTENTS. 

PACK 

Reflection 46 

Reflections  on  the  Cholera 53 

Rosy  May 223 

Sabbath  and  Sanctuary  Privileges  lamented 100 

Shall  1.  a  sinful  worm 230 

Stanzas 3G 

Thanksgiving  H\  mn 15 

That  Hand  never  struck  a  Blow 128 

Thirsting  for  God 244 

To  Adelia 57 

To  a  Friend 88 

To  Mr.  &  Mrs.  S.,  on  the  death  of  their  daughter 68 

To  Mrs.  Lydia  Devan 192 

To  my  Daughter,  on  presenting  her  with  a  Bible 127 

To  my  Husband 278 

To  my  Mother 279 

To  the  Lone  unloved  in  California Ill 

Triumphs  of  the  Gospel 204 

The  American  Sailor  and  the  Birds 79 

The  Angel's  Whisper 29 

The  Appeal  of  Little  Alice 261 

The  Beggar 103 

The  Best  Friend 76 

The  Better  Land 112 

The  Bible  Saved 74 

The  Bob-o  link 32 

The  Boy  and  the  Broom 149 

The  Broken  Vow 84 

The  Brothers 136 

The  Calm  of  Death 95 

The  Child  and  the  Flowers 255 

The  Child's  Appeal 262 

The  Child's  Dream 165 

The  Christian  Desire 57 

The  Consumptive 21 

The  Contrast 92 

The  Deacon's  Horse 50 

The  Drunkard  and  his  Bible \ 254 

The  Drunkard's  Death 258 

The  Drunkard's  Son 265 


CONTENTS.  2U 

PAGE 

The  Emigrant's  Plea 124 

The  Existence  of  God 147 

The  Fallen  Missionary 201 

The  Farewell  from  the  Cottage-door 119 

The  Forgot-me-not 23 

The  Gold-hunters  Lament 40 

The  Home  above 71 

The  Home  of  my  Childhood 75 

The  Journey  to  E Damans, 43 

The  Judgment 245 

The  Last  Day 232 

The  Last  Interview 196 

The  Last  Smile 80 

The  Leper 235 

The  Little  Boy  who  loved  his  Bible 145 

The  L  ittle  Colporteur 1(50 

The  Little  Girl's  Dream 151 

The  Little  Match-Boy 135 

The  Little  Penitent's  Request 141 

The  Lone  Widow 38 

The  Lord  our  Refuge 247 

The  Lost  Son 152 

The  Mercies  of  God 249 

The  Miner 39 

The  Missionary's  Farewell 191 

The  Motherless 171 

The  Mother's  Hope 183 

The  Mount  of  Childhood 28 

The  Old  Man's  Plea 16 

The  Orange  Flower 65 

The  O  rphan 87 

The  O  rphan  Boy 130 

The  Orphan's  Dream '. 185 

The  Orphan's  Lament 143 

The  Pastor's  Farewell 272 

The  Pastor's  Recognition 274 

The  Pastor's  Welcome 273 

The  Pious  Maid 64 

The  Silent  Beggar 162 

The  Song  of  Praise 224 

The  Spirit  Bird 202 

The  Star  of  Temperance 268 

The  Stolen  Bov 139 


Xll  CONTEXTS. 

PAGE 

Su  miner  Rose 69 

-  mday-school 224 

The  Sunday-school  Boy  and  his  Bible 164 

,  uday-school  Scholar's  Gratitude 212 

The  Sunday-school  Teacher's  Reward 214 

The  Rumseller  Recognized 260 

The  Teeming  World 206 

The  Timely  Visit 253 

The  Torn  Dress, 169 

The  Trembling  Christian  in  view  of  Death 49 

The  Trials  of  Saints 248 

The  Two  Givers 105 

The  Water  of  Life 205 

The  Weeping  Boy 1 76 

The  Western  E migrant 106 

The  Widow  of  Zarephath 36 

The  Wish 18 

The  Works  of  God 167 

The  Youthful  Missionary 193 

"We  have  met  with  cheerful  Voices 220 

We  shall  meet  again 72 

We   re  a  Band  of  Children 225 

When  I  am  Gone 25 

Why  don't  my  Brother  come 186 

Worship 229 

Youn£?  Student 174 


fnribcntal  anir  Iftiscellaiteona. 


EARTH'S    LOVELINESS. 

I  love,  I  love  this  world  so  bright, 
Its  pleasant  things  my  heart  delight. 
I  love  to  breathe  the  balmy  air 
Of  spring,  perfumed  with  odors  rare. 

I  love  to  hear  the  wild  birds  sing, 
And  see  them  rise  on  downy  wing ; 
Or  hop  and  pick  the  scattered  food, 
To  bear  in  triumph  to  their  brood. 

I  love  to  see  the  opening  flowers 
Of  early  spring  in  woodland  bowers  ; 
And  trace  the  little  winding  brook, 
That  warbles  through  the  grassy  nook. 

I  love  to  watch  the  finny  tribe 
Darting  athwart  from  side  to  side : 
Or  leap  to  catch  each  gnat  and  fly 
That  on  its  glassy  surface  lie. 


14 


I  love  to  hear  the  children  ^out, 
WheD  first  the  peeping  frogs  are  out; 
Or  slowly  steal  the  pond  beside, 
To  list  their  song  at  even-tide. 

The  early  snow — the  summer  shower — 
The  fragrant  breeze — t  e  shady  bower — 
The  towering  oak —  the  leaflet  small — 
I  love  them  each,  I  love  them  all. 

I  love — but  O  !  what  love  I  not 

That  God  has  made  on  this  bright  spot — 

I  love  to  wipe  the  grateful  tear, 

And  thank  that  God  who  placed  me  here. 

But  if  this  world  on  which  I  gaze 
Inspires  my  heart  with  love  and  praise, 
What  must  have  been  its  grandeur,  when 
It  stood  unscathed  by  blighting  sin  ? 

When  first  the  broad,  expansive  blue 
Beamed  with  rich  gems  of  golden  hue ; 
And  each  in  adoration  stood, 
When  He  who  made  it  called  it  "  good"  % 

Before  the  tempter's  lying  breath 
Brought  sorrows,  tears,  or  fearful  death ; 
When  man  as  angels  did  rejoice, 
To  hear  his  blessed  Maker's  voice  '\ 


THANKSGIVING    HYMN.  15 

Though  earth  much  loveliness  retains, 
It  has  its  woes,  its  tears,  and  pains  ; 
And  joys  of  perfect  love  have  found 
A  brighter  clime  on  holy  ground. 

Then  shall  this  love  within  my  soul 
Cease,  when  the  sea  forgets  to  roll  % 
No, — I  shall  mount  where  seraphs  shine, 
And  strike  the  harp  to  love  divine. 
New  York,  January  24,  1849. 


THANKSGIVING    HYMN. 

WRITTEN    WHILE   SUFFERING  UNDER  SEVERE  AND  REPEATED  AFFLICTIONS. 

For  what  shall  I  thank  Thee,  my  Saviour,  my  God  % 
For  stroke  upon  stroke,  from  thy  heavy  rod  % 

For  waves  of  affliction  that  break  o'er  my  soul, 
While  billows  of  sorrow  incessantly  roll  % 

Yes,  I'll  thank  Thee  for  these,  if  grace  but  be  given, 
To  guide  my  frail  bark  to  the  confines  of  heaven ; 

If  through  these  dark  tempests  my  faith  can  descry, 
The  Star  of  my  Hope  gleaming  brightly  on  high. 

I  will  thank  Thee  for  life,  its  joys,  and  its  woes, 
And  drink  to  the  dregs  the  cup  He  bestows, 

If  He  will  but  grant  me  a  sense  of  his  love, 
To  comfort  my  soul  in  its  pathway  above. 


16  THE    OLD    MAN'S     PLEA. 

I  thank  Thee,  my  Father,  for  Jeans  thy  Son, 

Who  came  to  redeem  me  when  lost  and  undone; 

Who  bore  in  His  body  my  Bins  on  the  tree, 
Thus  opening  the  portals  of  heaven  fur  me. 

There,  there  in  His  presence  Thanksgiving  and  praise, 
In  songs  never  ceasing,  to  Jesus  I'll  raise ; 

"When  freed  from  this  body  of  sin  and  dist 

I'll  rest,  oh !  how  sweetly  on  His  precious  brea>t ! 
New  York.  Thursday.  Dec.  12.  1S50. 


THE  OLD  MAX'S  PLEA. 

An  aged  man.  with  silvery  hair, 
Sat  musing  in  his  old  arm-chair. 
Beneath  a  tree  whose  lofty  height 
Caught  the  first  rays  of  orient  light. 
Not  one  leaf  on  its  branches  hung. 
To  shield  him  from  the  sultry  sun ; 
But  yet.  his  totfring  footsteps  brought 
Him  there,  each  day.  in  solemn  thought. 
Though  round  him  stood  more  stately  trees, 
Loaded  with  fruit  and  glossy  leaves, 
'Twas  here  he  breathed  a  purer  air 
And  offered  up  a  holier  prayer. 

For  here,  when  young,  his  youthful  bride 
Sat  with  him  oft  at  eventide ; 


THE    OLD    MAN  S    PLEA. 

And  here  his  children  early  played 
Beneath  its  cool,  inviting  shade ; 
Where  they  had  conned  their  infant  prayer, 
And  schoolboy's  task,  with  earnest  care. 
Here  watched,  in  spring,  the  plump  redbreast, 
Till,  fledged,  her  young  forsook  their  nest ; 
And  e'en  when  autumn's  winds  swept  round, 
A  charm  its  leafless  branches  found 
To  win  their  love,  till  winter  spread 
Its  mantle  o'er  the  grassy  bed. 

This  aged  man  oft  sat  and  wept, 
As  memory  here  her  record  kept ; 
For  he  alone  remained  to  tell 
How  dear  the  spot  he  loved  so  well ! 
And  when  the  sturdy  axeman's  blow 
Was  given  to  lay  that  tall  tree  low, 
His  withered  arms  were  round  it  flung, 
And  tears  from  his  dim  eyes  were  wrung, 
Such  as  had  wet  his  manly  face 
When,  from  his  loved  and  fond  embrace, 
His  sainted  wife  to  God  was  given, 
To  swell  the  song  of  love  in  heaven. 

"  Oh  spare,"  in  accents  loud,  said  he, 
"  This  dear  old  friend,  my  aged  tree ! 
We've  grown  and  withered  side  by  side, 
'Tis  still  my  emblem  and  my  guide  ! 
Its  loftly  top  points  up  to  heaven, 
From  whence  my  hopes  of  bliss  are  given. 


17 


18 


THE    WISH. 


Till  'neath  the  Tree  of  Life  I  bend, 
And  there  my  voice  with  loved  ones  blend, 
Oh  spare  !  in  mercy  spare  to  me, 
My  early  friend,  my  dear  old  tree ! 
And  when  my  snowy  locks  lie  low, 
Prepare  to  give  the  fatal  blow ! 
Yes !  nerve  thee  for  the  final  stroke, 
And  prostrate  lay  my  favorite  oak  !" 
February,  1853. 


THE  WISH. 


Oh  !  could  I  dwell  in  some  lone  spot, 

Where  fragrant  breezes  blow, 
With  a  pure  rill  before  my  cot, 

Passing  in  murmurs  low, 
Where  sweetest  flowers  arise  to  greet 

The  rays  of  morning's  sun, 
And  peace  and  plenty  smiling  meet 

My  cheerful  board  alone : — 

Oh !  could  I  dwell  with  one  kind  friend, 

In  such  a  place  as  this, 
Whose  sorrows  with  my  own  should  blend, 

And  sweeten  all  my  bliss — 
I  would  not  ask  for  India's  mines, 

Nor  princess'  gay  attire  ; 
But  sweet  content  a  wreath  should  bind 

Around  my  brow  entire. 


THE    ROSE    TREE. 

MY  ROSE  TREE. 

I  see  it  now  as  erst  it  stood, 

In  June's  bright  sunny  morning ; 

As  near  the  garden  fence  it  wooed, 
The  sun's  first  radiant  dawning. 

I  marked  with  joy  the  mossy  stem, 
And  saw  its  buds  expanding, 

Until  I  clasped  a  full-blown  gem 
The  first  perfume  demanding. 

I  gently  shook  the  dew-drops  bright, 

The  sun  was  fast  exhaling, 
And  bending  then,  with  fond  delight, 

I  stood  its  sweets  inhaling. 

Anticipating  me,  had  come 

A  bee  into  my  bower ; 
And  there,  concealed  himself  among 

The  leaves,  of  my  own  flower. 

He  sought  revenge,  as  I  should  not, 
For  with  his  sting,  he  met  me  ! 

I  cared  not  how  much  sweet  he  got, 
Then  why  should  he  beset  me  1 

And  thus  I've  found  life's  path-way  here, 

E'en  in  its  pleasant  bowers, 
I  found  I  still  had  cause  to  fear 

The  Bee,  among  the  flowers. 


19 


20  KIN  1 


KINDNESS. 


Ah,  why  would  you  add  a  pang  to  the  heart 
O'erburdened  here  with  sorrow  ? 

Or  dim  with  grief  the  brow  that  wears 
Hope  of  a  brighter  morrow  ? 

This  earth  hath  many  a  cruel  thorn ; 

Each  heart  enough  to  suffer ; 
They  need  not  then  the  taunting  scorn, 

Or  harsh  replies  we  offer. 

There  are  tears  enough  that  must  be  shed, 
And  hearts  oft  err  through  blindness ; 

Oh,  then  around  life's  pathway  spread 
The  light  of  love  and  kindness. 

Cast  not  a  shadow  around  the  heart 
Of  childhood's  happy  morning  ; — 

Quench  not  the  fount  of  joys  that  start, 
Or  nip  the  bud's  first  dawning. 

rTis  the  holiday  of  life  methinks. 

When  hope's  bright  rays  are  shining  ; 
And  kindness  adds  another  link 

To  the  golden  chain  we're  twining. 

Then  speak  kind  words  of  cheer  to  the  heart 

Of  all  who  gather  round  you ; 
It  will  a  balm  to  thy  soul  impart. 

And  heaven  with  joy  will  crown  you. 


THE    CONSUMPTIVE.  21 


THE  CONSUMPTIVE. 


I  saw  her,  pale  and  feeble, 
Beside  the  casement  sit ; 
And  watch  each  morn  and  even, 
The  happy  warblers  flit 
Around  her  much  loved  garden,  where 
She'd  seen  so  oft  those  birdlings  fair. 


':' 


'Twas  Spring,  in  early  beauty, 

The  buds  were  shooting  forth  ; 
Glad  that  the  winds  so  dreary 
Were  cradled  in  the  north, 
Where  wintry  frosts  their  fetters  roll 
And  bind  the  Arctic  to  the  pole. 

She  knew  that  happy  season 

To  her  would  ne'er  return ; 

She  felt  the  birds  were  singing 

To  her  their  parting  song ; 

And  every  flower  she  loved  so  well 

In  fragrance  breathed  farewell,  farewell. 

I'm  sad,  said  she,  at  parting 

With  all  that  seems  so  dear ; 
And  from  my  eye  is  starting 
Unsought,  the  bitter  tear ; 
As  o'er  the  landscape's  sunny  side, 
I  gaze  at  morn  and  eventide. 


THE    CONSUMPTIVE. 

God  made  this  world  so  lovely, 

I  see  his  glorious  hand  ; 
Around,  beneath,  above  me 
Unrivalled  beauties  stand ; 
The  earth,  the  sky,  the  breath  of  heaven- 
All,  all  to  man  so  kindly  given. 

But  hush  these  sad  repinings, 

The  blight  of  sin  is  here  ; 
Earth's  joys  so  brightly  shining, 
And  all  this  goodly  sphere 
Has  felt  its  withering  poisonous  breath, 
And  man  its  woes,  its  curse,  and  death. 

When  through  my  Saviour's  merit, 

I  reach  my  glorious  home  ; 
I  know  my  deathless  spirit. 
O'er  fairer  fields  will  roam  ; 
With  Seraphs  then  his  praise  I'll  swell, 
And  gladly  bid  this  world  farewell. 

Till  then,  may  grace  sustain  me, 

And  light  death's  gloomy  way  ; 
And  from  its  surges  bear  me, 
Safe  to  the  realms  of  day  ; 
Then  I,  of  holier  joys  will  tell, 
And  gladly  bid  loved  earth  farewell. 


A    MOTHER    TO    HER    DAUGHTER.  23 

THE  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

This  modest  little  flower, 

Oft  have  I  strayed  to  find ; 
As  if  some  magic  power, 

And  charm,  were  there  combined. 

I've  placed  it  on  my  table, 

Beside  the  budding  rose ; 
And  felt  its  power  a  cable, 

That  time  could  not  unloose. 

I've  wept  to  see  it  wither, 

And  laid  it  gently  by  : 
And  felt  that  death  would  sever, 

The  firmest,  strongest  tie. 


A  MOTHER  TO  HER  DUAGHTER  ON  THE  EYE  OF 
HER  MARRIAGE. 

I  have  twined  the  Orange  blossom 

Closely  in  thy  glossy  hair : 
Placed  the  rosebud  on  thy  bosom, 

Emblem,  fit,  of  one  so  fair. 

But  a  gem  far  more  enduring, 
To  thy  youthful  heart  I'd  bind ; 

Thoughts  thy  happiness  assuring, 
If  its  precepts  thou  wilt  mind. 


24  A    MOTHER    TO    HER    DAUGHTER. 

From  experience  I  would  show  thee, 
How  to  make  life's  pathway  bright ; 

Spread  its  joys  and  woes  before  thee, 
Summer's  sun  and  winter's  night. 

Pleasure's  arms  are  now  extended, 
Love  sits  smiling  on  the  way ; 

But  earth's  joys,  with  cares  are  blended 
For  new  strength  then  daily  pray. 

Ever  meet  thy  husband  kindly, 

Cheer  him  oft  with  love's  soft  lay — 

Pass  his  imperfections  blindly, 
If  his  manly  heart  e'er  stray. 

Be  united,  strength  will  lighter 
Make  the  bond  of  wedded  love  ; 

And  dome-tic  joys  shine  brighter, 
When  your  hearts  in  concert  move. 

Should  the  clouds  of  darkness  lower, 
And  affliction  pale  the  cheek ; 

Nerve  thee  for  the  bitter  hour, — 
Grace  can  make  the  trial  sweet. 

Child,  the  parting  scene  is  over, — 
Thou  a  mother's  blessing  hast. 

I've  resigned  thee  to  another ; 
Painful,  is  the  pleasing  task. 


WHEN    I    AM    GONE.  25 

He  has  vowed  my  child  to  cherish ; 

But  I  ne'er  could  say  farewell ; 
If  I  thought  his  love  would  perish, 

Or  grow  cold,  sweet  Arabell. 


WHEN  I  AM  GONE. 


When  I'm  gone,  dear  father  tell  me, 

Will  the  sun  as  brightly  shine, 
In  the  bending  skies  above  me ; 

Or  the  stars  at  day's  decline, 
Stand  as  thick  in  yonder  heaven, 

Darting  down  their  twinkling  rays  ; 
When  the  fragrant  breath  of  evening, 

Through  the  lattice  gently  plays  1 

Will  the  earth  be  clothed  with  flowers, 

And  the  birds  as  sweetly  sing, 
In  their  pleasant  shady  bowers, 

In  the  happy,  happy  spring  1 
Will  my  friends  my  mem'ry  cherish, 

Or  my  name  be  soon  forgot ; 
And  with  this  frail  body  perish, 

In  the  lonely  churchyard  spot  ? 

"  Dearest  child,  earth's  scenes  are  lovely, 
God,  thy  Father,  made  them  all ; 

And  they  change  but  at  his  bidding, 
For  he  marks  the  sparrow's  fall. 
2 


26 


WHEN    I    AM    GOSE, 


He,  his  sunshine  ever  sendeth, 

On  the  evil  and  the  good ; 
And  his  love  he  still  intendeth, 

For  the  unborn  multitude. 

"  Flowers  of  brighter  hues  are  blooming, 

In  the  gardens  of  his  grace  ; 
And  the  light  that  place  illuming, 

Is  the  glory  of  his  face  ; 
And  what  though  thy  name  may  perish, 

When  thy  friends  from  hence  depart  ] 
Jesus  will  it  ever  cherish, 

For  he  bears  it  on  his  heart." 

Father,  yes,  I  know  Fm  dying, 

Earthly  beauties  fade  away  ; 
But  my  soul  on  Christ  relying, 

Sees  a  brighter  heavenly  ray 
Leading  to  the  throne  of  glory, 

Where  the  ransomed  millions  stand, — 
Hark  !  there's  music  stealing  o'er  me, 

Comes  it  from  that  happy  land  ? 

Oh!  what  floods  of  light  and  glory. 

Burst  upon  my  trembling  frame ; 
Angels  spread  your  pinions  o'er  me, 

Bear  me  on  in  Jesus'  name ; 
Through  those  pearly  gates  I'll  enter, 

Jesus  shall  my  passport  be  ; 
And  all  glory  there  shall  centre 

In  the  Lamb,  who  died  for  me. 


BEHOLD    YOUR    KING."  27 


BEHOLD  YOUR  KING." 


Behold  him  !  He  enters,  thy  King  cometh  now, 
A  crown  is  encircling  that  calm  noble  brow ; 
But  oh !  the  deep  anguish,  the  sharp  piercing  thorns, 
Compose  the  rude  crown  which  His  temple  adorns. 

The  purple  of  royalty  decks  his  fair  form, 
A  robe  of  disgrace,  the  raiment  of  scorn ; 
And  in  his  kind  hand  a  sceptre  they  place, 
Then  buffet  and  smite  him,  and  spit  in  his  face. 

Then  pausing  before  him,  they  bend  the  proud  knee ; 

Address  him  as  King  with  mock  ecstasy ; 

With  scoffs  they  deride  him,  then  tauntingly  say, 

"  Come,  tell  us  who  smote  thee,  thou  prophet,  we  pray.r 

Next  the  scourge  and  the  nails,  the  cross  and  the  speai, 
This  meek  lowly  One  in  silence  did  bear  ; 
The  rays  of  the  sun,  rolled  back  toward  the  throne, 
While  He,  the  rejected,  thus  suffered  alone. 

But  think  'mid  His  anguish  compassion  is  there ; 
His  sweet  voice  is  breathing  to  heaven  a  prayer 
For  those  who  deride  him  :  "  O  Father,  forgive  !" 
Then  cries,  "  It  is  finished,"  the  sinner  may  live. 

My  soul,  come  adore  Him,  the  Crucified  One, — 
He  liveth !  He  reigneth  !  The  conquest  is  won. 
As  King  now  he  beareth  the  sceptre  of  love, 
While  crowned  with  all  glory  is  Jesus  above. 


THE    MOUNT    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

THE  MOUNT  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

In  childhood's  early  morning, 

When  health  glowed  on  my  cheek, 
I  loved  when  day  was  dawning 
To  view  the  mountain's  peak, 
And  thought,  if  thither  I  could  rise, 
My  tiny  hand  would  reach  the  skies. 

Its  brow  arose  to  heaven, 

And  kissed  the  rising  sun, 
As  up  his  car  was  driven, 
His  daily  course  to  run ; 
And  when  dark  clouds  had  veiled  its  side, 
I  longed  beneath  their  folds  to  hide. 

But  when  I  reached  its  summit — 
For  there  my  feet  were  led — 
I  stood  and  gazed  upon  it, 
But  oh !  the  sky  had  fled ; 
And  far  around  my  eye  could  trace 
Such  beauties  time  could  ne'er  efface. 

I  loved  the  meadow  flowers, 

I  loved  each  nook  and  dell ; 
But  oh  !  those  mountain-bowers 
Of  holier  things  did  tell : 
For  on  Mount  Sinai's  height  was  given, 
Amidst  the  fire,  the  Law  of  Heaven. 


29 


Oft  have  I  stood  with  wonder, 

And  heard  its  terrors  roll, 
And  feared  that  Sinai's  thunder 
Would  crush  ray  sinful  soul — 
Till  through  the  smoke  of  fear  did  rise, 
On  Zion's  mount  the  Sacrifice. 

My  childhood's  mount  I  cherish ; 

And  if  on  Sinai's  brow 
I  feared  I  once  should  perish, 
No  terror  has  it  now ; 
For  on  Mount  Calvary  I  see 
The  Lamb  that  bled  and  died  for  me. 

From  thence  I  turn  with  pleasure 
Where  mortal  feet  ne'er  trod, 
And  faith,  through  yon  bright  azure, 
Beholds  the  mount  of  God, 
Where  Jesus  owns  his  friends  above, 
On  that  blest  mount  of  holy  love. 


THE  ANGEL'S  WHISPER. 

I  saw  a  mother  weeping, 
Beside  an  infant's  bier ; 

And  angels  there  were  keeping 
A  record  of  each  tear. 


30  THE    ANGEL  S    WHISPER. 

She  grieved  that  God  had  given 
Her  darling  to  the  tomb  ; 

And  from  her  heart  had  riven, 
The  bud  of  sweetest  bloom. 

Methought  an  angel  bending, 
Breathed  softly  on  her  ear ; 

And  said  to  God  you  're  lending. 
The  gem  you  cherished  here. 

'Twas  meet  that  such  a  flower, 
Should  sparkle  near  his  throne ; 

Amid  that  radiant  bower, 
Which  Jesus  calls  his  own. 

His  gracious  bosom  beareth, 
The  cherub  of  your  love  ; 

And  brighter  robes  it  weareth, 
Than  Mothers  ever  wove. 

Through  grace  you  may  inherit, 
A  mansion  on  that  shore ; 

And  own  through  Jesus'  merit, 
Your  darling  evermore. 

Oh,  there  may  you  in  glory, 
The  parted  meet  to  tell ; 

The  ever  wond:rous  story, 
God  doeth  all  things  well. 


oh!  stay,  thou  lovely  summer.  31 

OH!  STAY,  THOU  LOVELY  SUMMER. 

Oh  !  stay,  thou  lovely  summer, 

Shed  yet  one  genial  ray, 
Ere  thou,  in  gentle  slumber, 

Dost  breathe  thy  charms  away. 

My  tearful  eyes  would  linger 

Upon  thy  loveliness, 
Ere  Autumn's  golden  finger 

Sports  with  thy  beauteous  dress. 

Thy  em'rald  robe  1  love  it, 

'Tis  dearer  far  to  me, 
Than  gems  a  king  might  covet, 

Or  pearls  from  yon  blue  sea. 

Awake,  sweet  bird  of  summer, 

And  from  thy  leafy  home 
Pour  some  enchanting  number, 

Ere  its  last  hour  has  flown. 

Soon  chilling  winds  may  drive  thee 

To  some  far-distant  shore, 
Or  in  some  cleft  confine  thee, 

Till  bleaker  storms  are  o'er. 

And  I,  who  sing  its  praises, 

Before  Spring's  breath  again 
Awakes  the  early  daisies, 

Or  decks  the  flow'ring  plain, 


32  THE    BOB-O-LINK. 

May  with  these  beauties  perish, 
Amid  the  wintry  gloom  ; 

And  be  by  those  I  cherish, 
Borne  to  the  silent  tomb. 

But  through  this  portal  dreary, 
By  faith  the  good  descry 

A  land  no  changes  vary, 
A  cloudless  summer  sky  ; 

Where  verdant  landscapes  ever 
Meet  the  untiring  gaze, 

And  hills  of  sacred  pleasure 
Resound  immortal  praise. 


THE  BOBOLINK. 


What  charming  notes  I  hear  from  yonder  cage ! 

'Tis  the  Bob-o-link  that  sings  so  sweetly. 

In  childhood,  oft  I  heard  like  precious  strains, 

As,  perched  upon  my  father's  lofty  crib, 

The  Bob-o-link,  in  bright  and  sunny  June, 

Poured  forth  such  sweet,  enchanting  melody. 

Beside  the  open  casement  then  I  sat, 

And  hailed  with  joy  the  coming  of  that  bird, 

And  happy  as  himself  did  seem  the  while ; 

I  listened  to  his  cheerful,  joyous  song ; 


I  LOVE  TO  THINK  OF  HEAVEN.  33 

For  well  I  knew  that  then  the  meadows  teemed 

With  strawberries,  that  sweet,  delicious  fruit. 

And  when  the  smiling  sun  had  drank  the  dew, 

With  cup  in  hand  I  hasted  out  to  pick 

The  blushing  berries  from  their  lowly  bed. 

There,  too,  I  met  the  spotted  Bob-o-link 

Flitting  around  with  joy,  from  bush  to  bush, 

Or  swinging  on  the  willow's  slender  twig, 

Still  carolling  his  sweet  and  blithesome  song. 

Sure,  those  were  happy  days.     And  happy  birds 

Were  those  I  saw  soaring  aloft  at  will, 

Or  nestling  on  the  carpet  of  green  grass. 

The  early  dew  they  drank,  and  daily  fed 

Upon  the  luscious  fruit  and  berries  sweet 

That  there  around  in  rich  profusion  grew. 

Oh,  how  I  loved  those  birds  !     Their  cheerful  songs, 

E'en  now,  with  joy  light  up  the  sunny  past. 

And  yet,  with  tears,  I  turn  me  from  those  scenes, 

Those  happy  scenes,  for  they  are  ever  gone, 

Or  only  live  on  memory's  page. 


I  LOVE  TO  THINK  OF  HEAVEN. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven, 

The  Christian's  final  home, 

Where  crowns  and  harps  are  given, 

To  all  around  the  throne ; 
3* 


34 


I   LOVE    TO    THINK    OF    HEAVEN. 

Where  saints  of  every  nation 
One  song  of  love  shall  swell, 

Ascribing  their  salvation 
To  Christ,  Immanuel. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven, 

That  place  replete  with  joy, 
Where  spotless  robes  are  given, 

And  pleasures  never  cloy ; 
But  hill  and  dale  rejoices, 

And  golden  prospects  please, 
And  sweet  seraphic  voices 

Float  on  each  living  breeze. 

I  love  think  to  of  heaven, 

That  "  chosen  spot  of  space," 
Where  God  unveils  his  glory 

Through  Jesus'  lovely  face  ; 
As  king  the  angels  crown  him, 

On  that  ethereal  plain, 
While  ransomed  souls  around  him 

"  The  Lamb  !  the  Lamb  !"'  proclaim. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven, 

My  much-loved  friends  are  there  ; 
And  precious  babes  I've  given, 

My  Saviour's  love  to  share. 
As  stars  of  night  they  glitter, 

Amidst  his  glorious  crown ; 
No  gems  of  love  are  fitter, 

Or  shed  such  light  around. 


I  LOVE  TO  THINK  OF  HEAVEN.  35 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven, 

Those  mansions  bright  and  fair, 
And  feel,  when  ties  are  riven, 

No  farewell  sound  is  there  ; 
But  happy  spirits  ever 

In  union  sweet  will  move, 
And  with  their  blessed  Saviour 

Range  o'er  those  fields  of  love. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven, 

The  Christian's  glorious  rest, 
Where  sorrow's  waves  can  never 

Break  o'er  their  peaceful  breast ; 
But  higher  still  is  swelling 

That  radiant  sea  of  love, 
New  light  and  life  revealing 

From  out  the  throne  above. 

Who  would  not  dwell  in  heaven, 

That  city  paved  with  gold, 
All  garnished  with  salvation, 

So  beauteous  to  behold  ; 
Where,  hand  in  hand  with  angels, 

That  landscape  we'll  explore, 
And  gather  flowers  immortal, 

When  time  shall  be  no  more  ? 


36  THE    WIDOW    OF    ZAREPHATH. 

-TAXZAS. 

I  looked  and  saw  a  lovely  flower, 

Upon  a  slender  stem  ; 
Its  leaves  were  moistened  by  a  shower, 

And  beauty  clothed  the  gem. 

I  looked  again,  and  lo  !  the  leaves 

Had  fallen  to  the  ground, 
Were  scattered  by  the  envious  breeze — 

No  fragrance  there  was  found. 

This  lesson  taught  my  heart  how  frail 
Were  beauty,  time  and  youth  ; 

It  bade  me  look  where  joys  ne'er  fail, 
And  grasp  eternal  truth. 


THE  WIDOW  OF  ZAPEPHATH.* 

A  blighting  curse  on  Carmel's  hill, 

The  with'ring  verdure  felt ; 
And  Cherith's  water,  that  sweet  rill, 

Where  God's  dear  servant  knelt. 

No  balmly  breeze  swept  o'er  the  plain, 
Xo  dew  refreshed  the  flower. — 

For  three  long  years,  nor  earth  nor  main 
Had  drank  a  cooling  shower. 
*  1  Kings,  xvii. 


THE    WIDOW    OF    ZAREPHATH. 

The  city  of  Sarepta,*  too, 
Had  felt  the  chast'ning  rod  ; 

Perchance  within  her  walls  were  few 
Who  feared  the  living  God  : 

And  yet  methinks  one  widowed  heart, 
With  anguish  deep  was  riven  ; 

Had  she  not  felt  that  sorrow's  dart 
Ne'er  entered  Israel's  heaven  ? 

Her  little  son  was  now  to  share 

With  her  their  last  repast ; 
But  while  for  this  she  did  prepare, 

A  weary  wand'rer  past. 

A  cup  of  water  he  did  crave, — 

And  bring  a  bit  of  bread  : 
Thy  care-worn  servant  hither  came 

To  seek  relief,  he  said. 

Think  you  that  tender  mother  bade 

The  stranger  to  depart ; 
Or  shared  with  him  the  meal  she  had, 

While  hunger  pierced  her  heart  1 

First  for  the  man  of  God  she  made 

"Thereof  a  little  cake;" 
God  blest  the  act,  her  meal  was  stayed, 

For  good  Elijah's  sake. 

*  Luke,  iv.  26. 


37 


38  THE    LONE    WIDOW. 

THE  LONE  WIDOW. 

I  sought  a  room  where  care  and  wo, 
A  widow's  heart  were  rending ; 

And  through  the  window,  sleet  and  snow 
The  rude  north  wind  was  sending. 

The  dying  embers  faintly  glowed, 
And  every  ray  was  telling  ; 

That  want  and  wretchedness  abode, 
Within  the  widow's  dwelling, 

"  For  many  years.'*  she  said.  M  alone 
I've  drank  the  cup  of  sorrow ; 

And  felt  how  sad  the  widow's  moan, 
How  cheerless  is  the  morrow. 

But  yet  I  've  one  memento  left, 

It  is  a  golden  treasure  ; 
And  though  of  all  else  here  bereft, 

This  ever  gives  me  pleasure." 

And  from  her  bosom  then  she  drew 
The  picture  so  much  cherished ; 

My  darling  son.  said  she.  they  slew; 
In  cruel  war  he  perished. 

On  Palo  Alto's  height  he  bled, 

His  country's  flag  waved  orer  him ; 

Perchance  no  tear  for  him  was  shed, 
When  to  the  grave  they  bore  him ! 


THE    MINER. 


But  ah  !  his  widowed  mother  weeps — 
The  last  lone  tie  is  broken, 

And  here  her  lonely  vigil  keeps, 
Where  his  farewell  was  spoken. 


THE  MINER. 

TO    E.    G.    W IN    CALIFORNIA. 

I  seem  to  see  thee  in  that  land, 

Where  Yuba's  waters  roar, 
Bending  to  wash  the  murky  sand, 
Dug  from  the  earth  with  stalwart  hand, 

In  search  of  precious  ore. 

Next  to  the  lowly  hut  I  trace 

A  miner's  weary  feet ; 
The  board  is  spread,  but  not  with  grace, 
No  mother  stands  with  smiling  face, 

Nor  sister  kind  to  greet. 

In  vain  I  search  for  downy  bed, 
And  pillow  white  and  clean  ; 
The  mountain  buffalo  has  shed 
His  shaggy  robe,  to  shield  thy  head,v 
From  cold  and  vapors  keen. 

The  winds  that  sweep  the  lofty  pine, 

And  Yuba's  sullen  roar, 
A  vesper  keep,  while  crickets  chime 
Their  notes  in  solemn  chanting  time, 

Till  morning  lights  the  shore. 


40  THE    GOLD    HUNTER'S    LAMENT. 

Oh,  had  you  there  some  kindred  friend 

To  break  this  dull  routine  ; 
Some  sympathizing  hand  to  lend 
A  charm,  and  social  pleasure  blend, 
How  changed  would  be  the  scene ! 

Ah,  do  not  spend  in  search  of  gold 

Youth's  brightest,  sweetest  hours  ; 
A  richer  bliss  is  in  the  fold 
Of  home,  where  sacred  joys  untold, 
Cheer  love's  domestic  bowers. 


THE  GOLD  HUNTER'S  LAMENT. 

Ah  !  why  did  I  roam, 

From  that  happy  home — 
From  the  land  that  gave  me  birth, 

From  friends  I  revere, 

And  kindred  so  dear, 
To  seek  for  the  treasures  of  earth  ? 

Unaccustomed  to  toil, 

I  cared  not  to  soil 
My  clothes  or  lily-white  hand — 

Till  I  came  to  the  spot, 

Where  the  miners  got 
The  gold  from  the  glittering  sand. 


THE    GOLD    HUNTER'S    LAMENT.  41 

My  strength  then  I  laid, 

On  shovel  and  spade, 
My  feet  and  clothes  seldom  dry — 

And  round  me  swept 

The  winds  that  crept 
From  the  snow-capped  mountains  so  high. 

No  pillow  of  down, 

But  on  the  cold  ground, 
My  bed  of  blankets  I  Ve  made — 

Then  dreamed  of  my  home, 

And  entered  the  room, 
Where  mother's  rich  dainties  were  laid. 

Then  on  the  warm  blaze, 

Enraptur'd  I  gaze, 
The  sofa  I  roll  to  its  place — 

So  rich  is  the  cheer, 

I  brush  off  the  tear, 
That  steals  down  my  pale  sunken  face. 

But  health  I  have  sold, 

For  this  shining  gold, 
For  a  grave,  and — nothing  more — 

And  no  tearful  eye 

Will  mark  where  I  lie, 
On  Sacramento's  golden  shore. 


42  COMFORT    IN    AFFLICTION. 

COMFORT  IN  AFFLICTION. 

My  chastened  soul  submissive  lies, 
Dear  Saviour,  at  thy  feet : 

Justice  the  needful  rod  applies, 
But  Mercy  makes  it  sweet. 

My  treacherous  heart  too  often  falls 

A  captive  to  each  snare ; 
And  unbelief  my  mind  enthralls, 

And  urges  to  despair. 

If  Faith  her  feeble  wings  expand, 

And  joys  ecstatic  bloom, 
Then  Fear  again  her  claim  demands, 

And  Hope  seems  half  entombed. 

But,  Lord,  my  plea  is,  Jesus  died ! 

This  thought  my  love  revives ; 
And  in  that  fountain  he  supplied, 

My  soul  securely  lies. 

There,  when  the  last  sad  blow  is  felt 
Which  sin  has  power  to  give, 

May  I,  absolved  from  all  my  guilt, 
Awake,  with  him  to  live. 

Then  will  I  shout  on  that  blest  shore, 
When  conflicts  all  are  past, 

And  death's  dread  sting  is  felt  no  more, 
"  I'm  safe  "  with  Christ  at  last ! 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    EMMAUS.  43 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  EMMAUS. 

The  Shepherd  of  the  flock  was  laid 

Aside  in  Joseph's  tomb  ; 
The  sheep  were  scattered,  all  dismayed, 

And  filled  with  frightful  gloom. 

The  third  day  dawned — death's  power  was  broke : 

And  as  the  journeying  two 
Of  their  departed  Master  spoke. 

A  stranger  hove  in  view. 

The  sorrowing  tale  of  Jesus'  wo 

To  Him  they  quickly  tell ; 
But  soon  their  hearts  with  love  o'erflow ; 

His  words  like  music  fell. 

He  showed  how  Christ  the  Holy  Lamb, 

The  Eternal  Father  gave 
To  die,  that  He,  poor  fallen  man, 

From  death  and  hell  might  save, 

So  sweet  the  heavenly  stranger's  voice 

Did  fall  upon  their  ears, 
It  made  their  burning  hearts  rejoice, 

And  calmed  their  rising  fears. 

And  when  to  Emmaus  they  came, 

The  day  now  being  spent, 
His  blessed  company  they  claim, 

Though  on  his  steps  seemed  bent. 


44  A    SCENE    ON    THE    JORDAN. 

"Abide  with  us!"  they  kindly  said, 
While  tears  their  cheeks  bedew. 

He  stopped — He  blessed  and  broke  the  bread- 
Their  risen  Lord  they  knew. 

'Tis  sweet  a  Saviour's  love  to  feel 

When  sin's  corroding  blast, 
Or  sorrow's  breath  around  us  steals, 

Or  clouds  our  sky  o'ercast. 

"  Abide  with  us !" — Thy  presence  Lord 

Can  smooth  life's  rugged  way  ; 
And  when  above  our  bark  is  moored, 

Thou'lt  wipe  our  tears  away. 


A  SCEXE  ON  THE  JORDAN. 

Once  from  Judea's  wilderness, 

Emerged  a  manly  form, — 
A  coarse  and  simple  ancient  dress, 

His  body  did  adorn  ; 
Twas  laid  in  graceful  folds  around, 
And  by  a  leathern  girdle  bound. 

He  stood  with  heavenly  courage  bold, 

Upon  that  peaceful  strand ; 
Where  Jordan's  placid  waters  rolled 

On  through  bright  Canaan's  land — 
Perchance,  on  that  same  bank  once  stood, 
The  Priests  who  bore  the  Ark  of  God. 


A    SCENE    ON    THE    JORDAN.  45 

His  voice  as  dulcet  soft  and  sweet, 

The  list'ning  throng  did  hear, 
And  closer  press'd  around  his  feet, 

Trembling  with  guilt  and  fear : 
He  said,  "  Repent,  ye  sinful  band, 
God's  blessed  kingdom  is  at  hand." 

While  thus  he  spoke,  on  through  the  crowd 

A  lovely  being  pressed ; 
And  there  in  gentle  meekness  bowed, 

And  thus  his  wish  expressed  : 
"  I've  sought  thee  at  the  river-side, 
To  lay  my  body  'neath  the  tide." 

"  I've  need  to  be  baptized  by  thee," 

The  startled  preacher  said : 
"  Why  comest  thou,  my  Lord,  to  me  ?" 

The  Saviour  answer  made — 
"  All  righteousness  I  must  fulfil, 
I  came  to  do  my  Father's  will." 

Then  in  old  Jordan's  rolling  wave, 

The  holy  Baptist  stood ; 
And  laid  into  the  mystic  grave, 

The  spotless  Lamb  of  God. 
And  as  he  rose  the  veil  of  heaven 
Awhile  to  mortal  gaze  was  riven. 

And  lo  !  the  Spirit,  heavenly  guest, 
Descended  like  a  dove  ; 


46  REFLECTION. 

And  nestled  on  that  gracious  breast; 

Fit  emblem  of  his  love. — 
And  from  the  Father's  throne  was  heard, 
A  voice  which  every  bosom  stirred. 

Like  music  from  the  realms  of  bliss, 

It  fell  on  every  ear  ; 
Each  felt  a  thrill  of  happiness, 

As  heaven  itself  were  near. 
It  said,  "  Well  pleased  am  I  to  own, 
This  is  my  dear  beloved  Son." 


REFLECTION. 

WRITTEN    WHEN    INDISPOSED. 

I  sat  myself  down  under  a  wide-spreading  oak, 

And  called  my  past  folly  to  mind  ; 
I  thought  of  the  days  when  from  sin  I  awoke, 

And  embraced  a  dear  Saviour  so  kind. 

I  thought  of  the  days  when  in  childhood  I  strayed, 

And  gathered  wild  flowers  in  May  ; 
When  the  sweet  warbling  songsters  enlivened  the  glade, 

And  sportively  sang  on  each  spray. 

Oh !  sweet  retrospection  of  childish  devotion, 

Thy  transient  enjoyment  is  o'er ; 
I  look  with  regret  on  the  speed  of  thy  motion, 

And  vainly  past  pleasures  deplore. 


ALONE    WITH    GOD.  47 

My  joys  now  are  mingled  with  sorrow  and  tears, 

Each  pleasure  is  tasted  with  pain  ; 
But  oh !  the  bright  prospect  of  glory  appears, 

Where  the  weary  a  rest  may  obtain. 

Oh !  may  I  when  crossing  the  cold  stream  of  Jordan, 

My  Saviour,  lean  firmly  on  thee  ; 
No  more,  then,  I'll  groan  under  sin's  heavy  burden, 

But  safe  in  thy  bosom  I'll  be. 


ALONE  WITH  GOD. 

"Ks  sometimes  sweet  to  be  alone, 

From  all  our  friends  apart ; 
Where  thoughts,  if  breathed,  are  heard  by  none, 

Save  Him  who  sees  the  heart. 

Alone  with  God — delightful  spot ! 

When  every  secret  sigh 
Is  registered,  where  sighs  are  not, 

In  heaven's  unclouded  sky  ! 

Alone  with  God — communion  sweet 

The  heirs  of  glory  find, 
When,  near  the  gracious  mercy-seat, 

They  all  to  Christ  resign. 


48  CHRISTMAS    HYMN. 

Ah,  yes  !  it  is  a  holy  place. 

A  Bethel  on  the  way, 
Where  we  our  Ebenezer  raise 

To  mark  some  heavenly  ray. 

Alone  with  God,  in  humble  prayer— 
Oh,  may  we  often  prove 

That  J  esus  meets  the  contrite  there, 
And  fills  the  soul  with  love ! 

Sweet  oases  to  cheer  the  heart 
Are  found  upon  life's  road  ; 

But  none  more  holy  joys  impart 
Than  this — alone  with  God. 
May,  1854. 


CHRISTMAS  HYMN. 

Hail  glorious  day  when  Christ  forsook, 

His  blest  abode  on  high, 
And  in  this  world  our  nature  took, 

To  bring  salvation  nigh. 

Hail  glorious  day 

Yes  mortals  may, 

Triumphantly  exclaim, 

He  did  descend 

To  be  our  friend, 

That  we  in  bliss  might  reign. 


THE    TREMBLING    CHRISTIAN   IN    VIEW    OF   DEATH.       49 

The  star-led  men  adorning  came 

And  costly  gifts  bestowed, 
While  heavenly  hosts  "  good  will "  proclaim 

Around  his  new  abode 

Oh  Saviour  king 

What  praises  ring 

Around  thy  humble  bed, 

Angels  with  men 

Do  join  the  theme, 

To  praise  their  living  head. 


THE  TREMBLING  CHRISTIAN  IN  VIEW  OF  DEATH. 

Gently,  Saviour,  gently  bear  me 
O'er  the  boisterous  swelling  tide ; 

Firmer  my  weak  faith  would  clasp  thee, 
Ere  I  reach  the  water's  side. 

Oh,  how  dreary  is  the  passage  ! 

Darkness  veils  the  distant  shore, 
Death  sits  brooding  on  its  surface ; 

Jesus,  smile,  I  ask  no  more. 

Sin  has  raised  its  cloudy  pillar, 

Unbelief  would  crush  my  soul ; 

Saviour,  o'er  that  gloomy  billow 

Let  the  light  of  glory  roll. 
3 


50  the  deacon's  horse. 

Thou  hast  felt  death's  icy  linger 

Thou  hast  triumphed  o'er  the  grave  ; 

While  I  near  its  portals  linger, 
Jesus,  show  thy  power  to  save. 

On  thy  bosom  I  will  rest  me. 

To  thy  wounded  side  I'll  turn ; 
Jesus  my  weak  faith  can  trust  thee, 

Thou  canst  save  so  vile  a  worm. 

Oh,  the  path  grows  bright  before  me, 
Glory  lights  the  distant  shore ; 

Love's  pure  banner  floateth  o'er  me, 
Jesus  smiles — I  ask  no  more. 


THE  DEACON'S  HORSE. 

Once  in  a  rude  sequestered  spot, 

Far  from  the  village  din ; 
A  good  old  deacon  reared  a  cot, 

And  calmly  lived  within. 

Each  Sabbath  morn,  his  horse,  old  Jack, 

Was  from  the  pasture  led, 
And  from  the  deacon's  well-filled  sack, 

The  goodly  nag  was  fed. 


THE    DEACON'S    HORSE.  51 

He  was  a  beast  of  spirit  rare. 

And  quickly  o'er  the  road 
The  deacon  and  his  wife  did  bear 

Up  to  the  house  of  God. 

No  storms  e'er  kept  the  deacon  home ; 

He  loved  to  fill  his  seat ; 
And  Jack  in  safety  bore  him  on, 

With  sure  and  nimble  feet. 

But  soon  a  veil  of  grief  was  cast 

Around  the  evening  sky  : 
The  good  old  deacon  breathed  his  last, 

Without  one  fearful  sigh. 

And  when  the  dear  departed  one, 

Was  laid  in  that  loved  spot — 
The  widow  could  not  live  alone, 

So  left  the  pleasant  cot. 

And  poor  old  Jack,  he  too,  must  share, 

The  widow's  gloomy  fate ; 
From  other  hands  he  took  his  fare, 

Far  from  the  deacon's  gate. 

But  ever  as  the  Sabbath  came, 

To  meeting  Jack  would  go ; 
He  needed  neither  whip  nor  rein, 

For  he  the  way  did  know. 


52        PRAYER  OF  MARY,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 

When  there,  he  gently  sought  his  spot, 

And  quietly  he  stood, 
'Till  church  was  o'er,  then  with  a  trot, 

Old  Jack  was  on  the  road. 

But  then,  he  always  took  the  way 
To  his  old  master's  door  ; 

And  stopped  when  there,  as  if  to  say, 
"  Old  Jack  is  home  once  more." 


PRAYER  OF  MARY,  QUEEX  OF  SCOTS. 

O  Domine  Deus,  speravi  in  te ! 
O  care  mi  Jesu,  nunc  libera  me ! 
In  dura  catena, 
In  misera  poena, 
Desidero  te. 
Languendo,  gemendo,  et  genu  flectendo, 
Adoro,  imploro,  ut  liberes  me 


Jehovah,  My  God,  I  have  trusted  in  thee  ! 
O  Jesus,  my  Saviour,  deliver  thou  me  ! 
In  bondage  thy  foes  my  body  have  kept, 
And  deep  in  the  vale  of  misery  I've  wept. 
To  thee,  my  Eedeemer,  for  succor  I  fly, — 
My  heart-rending  sorrows  have  entered  the  sky. 
And  now  I  adore  thee,  while  bending  the  knee ; 
But  still  I  implore  thee,  deliver  thou  me ! 


REFLECTIONS    ON    THE    CHOLERA.  53 

REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  CHOLERA. 

Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  % 
While  o'er  our  fated  earth 
The  plague  its  wrath  did  spend, 
Crushing  fond  hopes  at  birth, 
Who  hath  not  paused,  with  tearful  eye, 
To  view  the  angel  passing  by  % 

Parents  have  stood  aghast, 

To  see  their  flow'rets  fall, 
And  sickened  as  the  last 
Lay  silent  'neath  the  pall ; 
And  in  the  same  cold,  silent  ground, 
With  those  they  loved  a  tomb  have  found. 

Homeless,  the  orphan  band 
Alone  have  sat  and  wept, 
Till  midnight  o'er  the  land 
In  darkling  shadows  crept ; 
Then  laid  them  down  in  some  lone  spot, 
Where  grief  awhile  has  been  forgot. 

The  drunkard's  song  was  hushed 
While  o'er  the  midnight  bowl, 
And  all  his  hopes  were  crushed, 
As  horror  filled  his  soul : 
With  anguish  deep,  and  madness  there, 
His  spirit  sunk  in  dark  despair. 


54  REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  CHOLERA. 

The  statesman  too  did  bow  ; 

The  hero  and  the  sage, 
The  man  with  furrowed  brow, 
And  locks  all  white  with  ase, 
Alike  have  felt  the  power  of  God, 
And  sunk  heneath  his  chastening  rod. 

The  blooming  youth  and  child, 

The  infant  of  a  day, 
Were  laid,  in  anguish  wild, 
Within  the  tomb  away  ; 
And  smitten  hearts  have  breathed  the  prayer, 
"  Spare  !  O  my  God  !  in  mercy  spare  !" 

As  flowers  that  decked  the  lawn 
Have  felt  night's  chilly  tread, 
Friend  after  friend  has  gone, 
Hope  after  hope  has  fled. — 
Transplanted,  some  to  climes  more  fair, 
To  shed  eternal  fragrance  there. 

The  storm  its  force  has  spent. 
And  yet  the  monster  stands, 
With  quiver  full,  and  bent 

The  bow.  for  his  demands  : 
Unerring  then  the  blow  will  be, 
"When  once  the  dart  is  aimed  at  me. 

Then  on.  ye  spared  ones.  on. 
And  nerve  ye  for  the  strife  j 


A    SCENE    AT    THE    BATTLE    OF    MONTEREY.  55 

Through  sorrow's  path  is  won 
The  crown  of  endless  life  : 
Past  conflicts  then  will  make  more  sweet 
Our  rest,  with  friends,  at  Jesus'  feet 


A  SCENE  AT  THE  BATTLE  OF  MONTEREY. 

A  writer  from  Mexico  informs  us  that  after  the  Battle  of  Monterey,  a  woman 
was  seen  upon  the  field,  passing  among  the  wounded  and  dying,  with  bread 
and  water,  which  she  kindly  bestowed  upon  the  poor  fallen  soldiers.  She 
took  the  handkerchief  from  her  own  head  to  bind  up  a  soldier's  wounded  arm, 
who  lay  fain  ling  from  the  loss  of  blood.  After  her  store  was  spent,  she  turned 
away,  filled  her  gourd  again  with  water,  and  as  she  was  returning,  a  ball — 
which  the  writer  hoped  was  accidental,— brought  this  poor  creature  to  the 
ground,  mingling  her  own  life-blood  with  that  of  the  victims,  to  whom  she 
was  administering  relief.  It  was  this  striking  and  painful  incident  that  sug- 
gested to  my  mind  the  following  lines  : — 

Upon  the  field  all  gory 

And  red  with  human  blood, 
Where  men  had  rushed  for  glory, 

A  lovely  being  stood  : 
She  raised  the  fallen  soldier, 

And  staunched  the  bleeding  wound, 
By  binding  her  own  'kerchief 

In  many  folds  around, 

Then  on  through  scenes  of  slaughter, 

She  moved  with  gentle  tread, 
Thither  had  mercy  brought  her, 

To  raise  the  fainting  head. 


56  A    SCENE    AT    THE    BATTLE    OF    MONTEREY. 

She  dealt  among  the  dying, 
Her  bread  and  water  pure, 

To  none  her  gilts  denying, 
'Till  failed  her  precious  store. 

Then  from  this  field  of  sadness 

I  saw  her  quickly  trip, 
And  fill  her  gourd  in  gladness, 

To  wet  the  parched  lip. 
Perchance  her  heart  was  yearning 

For  her  own  iallen  son  ; 
If  not.  with  love  'twas  burning, 

And  with  deep  anguish  wrung. 

While  there,  with  noblest  feeling — 

This  tender  woman  found 
Her  own  dear  life-blood  streaming — 

She  fell  on  battle  ground. 
She  fell,  but  not  imbruing 

Her  hands  in  other's  blood, 
But  while  in  love  pursuing 

Her  fellow-creatures'  good. 

Great  God.  if  this  is  glory 

Which  men  thus  madly  seek. 
Cast  not  its  laurels  o'er  me, 

But  let  me  humbly  sleep 
With  sweet  and  peaceful  slumber 

Among  the  chosen  few 
Who  strive  their  God  to  honor 

With  glory  all  his  due. 


THE    CHRISTIAN  S    DESIRE. 


57 


TO  ADELIA. 

Fond  friends  may  view  that  smiling  face, 
Each  look  of  love  or  pleasure  trace, 
And  I,  who  fain  each  bliss  would  share, 
Or  soothe  thy  heart  if  fraught  with  care 
Impelled  by  duty  far  to  roam 
In  sorrow  from  my  heart's  dear  home. 

But  yet  to  know  I  share  a  part 
In  the  affections  of  thy  heart, — 
To  know  that  constant  heart  will  be 
Uplifted  oft  in  prayer  for  me, 
Will  give  to  life  a  thousand  charms 
While  absent  from  Adelia's  arms. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  DESIRE. 

I  ask  no  faded  gems  of  earth 
To  deck  this  brow  of  mine ; 

No  soul  e'er  panted  at  its  birth 
In  glittering  robes  to  shine. 


But  there's  a  robe  of  spotless  white, 

Which  far  outshines  the  morn ; 

'Tis  kept  in  yonder  world  of  light, 

The  ransomed  to  adorn. 
3* 


58  EXTRACT. 

And  there's  a  crown  of  nameless  worth, 
Which  Jesus  will  bestow  ; 

And  souls  redeemed  from  sin  and  earth 
Its  lasting  power  shall  know. 

What  joy  while  here  to  catch  the  gale 
Perfumed  with  Jesus'  love, 

And  in  contrition's  lowly  vale, 
Drink  from  the  stream  above. 

A  refuge  from  the  blasts  of  sin 

Is  found  at  Jesus'  feet ; 
And,  till  the  glorious  prize  I  win, 

I'll  seek  that  blest  retreat. 


AN  EXTRACT  OF  A  LETTER  TO  A  FRIEXD. 

I'll  think  of  thee,  while  reason  lends, 
One  spark  to  cheer  my  heart ; 

And  ever  call  thee  clearest  friend, 
For  such,  thou  truly  art. 

And  when  at  eve  the  All-seeing  eye 

Beholds  me  on  my  knee ; 
Ah,  then  my  friend,  remember  I 

Will  breathe  a  prayer  for  thee. 


AN    EMBLEM    OF    LIFE.  59 

AN  EMBLEM  OF  LIFE. 

"All  flesh  i*  as  grass.    The  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth;  but  the 
word  of  our  God  sliall  stand  forever." 

The  fragrant  flowers  that  deck  the  verdant  lawn, 
And  rise  in  beauty  round  our  careless  feet, 
Blending  their  sweetness  with  the  balmy  air, 
Are  representatives  of  mortal  man. 

They  sip  the  heavenly  dews,  and  sparkle 
In  the  rays  of  the  reviving  sun.     So  God, 
His  blessings  pour  on  each  of  Adam's  race. 
All  feed — all  live  on  His  unbounded  love. 

Ungrateful  some,  and  some  obsequious 
Bow  to  His  commands ;  His  works  adoring, 
And  His  blest  name  their  humble,  grateful  song. 

Unseen  the  gnawing  worm  oft  revels  on 
The  tender  stalk,  and  lo !  the  opening  flower 
Ere  its  frail  leaves  expanded  are,  decays, 
Or  droops  its  head,  and  fades,  or  dies  away 
Upon  the  parent  stalk.     How  gloomy  this  ! 
The  parents  fond  the  lovely  child  behold, 
And  in  their  breast  hope  paints  the  blooming  youth — 
The  accomplished  man  !     Ephemeral  joy. 
Disease  infects  the  heart — its  beauty  fades, 
And  agonizing  pain,  convulsive  racks 
The  tender  frame.     The  trembling  parents  gaze 
Upon  the  pallid  cheek,  and  often  press 
The  soothing  cordial  to  the  fevered  lip. 
Unconscious,  stricken  child ;  it  heeds  it  not ; 
And  vain  their  hands  administer  relief; 


60 


[BLEU    OF    LIFE. 


Its  days  all  numbered  are  ;  and  its  spirit, 
Redeemed  by  Jesus'  precious,  saving  blood, 
The  bright  angelic  band,  bears  up  to  bliss. 

Not  thus,  all  die.     Some  flourish  till  the  sun 
Ascends  quite  up,  to  his  meridian  height; 
In  beauty  flourish,  and  in  lustre  too, 
By  all  beloved,  and  dearly  loving  all ; 
Then  wither  'neath  his  beams  and  happy  die. 

Nor  these  alone :     Some  hie  them  to  the  field, 
The  battle  field,  and  there,  'mid  scenes  of  wo, — 
Of  carnage  and  dismay  ;  as  flowers  fall 
Before  the  mower's  scythe  upon  the  ground ; 
So  they ;  e'en  by  the  cold  relentless  hand 
Of  man,  meet  an  untimely,  dreadful  grave. 

Oh  !  horrid  sight,  when  man  with  fellow  man, 
In  battle  join  and  sate  their  vengeance 
With  dying  victim's  groans  and  flowing  blood. 

But  some  there  are,  who  saw  the  lovely  sun, 
In  dazzling  splendor  greet  the  dusky  earth — 
Then  saw  him  climb  to  his  meridian  height : 
Thence,  swiftly  descend  the  western  sky ; 
There  still  remain.     But  lo  !  their  lustre  gone, 
The  stalk  is  with'ring  at  its  leafless  base — 
The  root,  the  infectious  worm  has  eaten. 
And  thus  no  moisture,  gains  the  sick'ning  flower. 
It  droops,  it  hangs  its  feeble  head,  and  soon, 
The  gentle  breeze  that  sweeps  the  plain, 
All  gently  lays  them  on  the  lap  of  Earth. 
Some,  too,  with  joy,  their  dissolution  meet. 


AN    EMBLEM    OF    LIFE.  61 

Prepared  and  ready  for  the  harvest  great. 
Like  shocks  of  corn,  most  fully  ripe,  they  meet 
The  reaper's  hand.     For  well  assured  are  they, 
That  bliss,  supernal  bliss,  their  souls  await. 
Sweet  was  the  service  of  their  heavenly  King ; 
And  sweet  his  promise  to  their  dying  ear, 
"  Ye  shall  be  mine,"  saith  he,  who  in  my  work, 
My  blessed  work  delight  have  taken  here, 
When  I  return  to  make  my  jewels  up. 

Still  some  to  evade  the  monster's  dart, 
Most  vainly  strove.     And  plain  the  reason  why. 
They  ever  had  despised  his  holy  law, 
And  in  the  mammon  of  this  world  their  hearts 
Were  -wholly  placed.     Delighted  they  in  mirth, 
And  sought  no  other  bliss  than  worldly  gain. 

Ungrateful  man,  not  once  to  heaven  his  eyes 
Were  raised,  nor  in  his  heart  one  thankful  thought 
Arose,  to  God  who  made  and  him  preserved. 
He  loved  his  maker  not ;  and  now  these  words. 
These  awful  words,  sounded,  with  terror  dread, 
In  his  most  guilty  ear,  '-'•  Into  the  hands 
Of  God— the  living  God,"  "  a  fearful  thing 
It  is  to  fall."     And  gladly  would  he  now 
His  presence  fly,  but  ah  !  his  doom  is  fixed  ; 
For  the  eternal  mandate  has  gone  forth, 
Nor  man,  nor  flower,  nor  any  living  thing, 
Can  it  evade.     'Twas  by  Jehovah  spoken, 
By  him  'twill  be  fulfilled.     "  For  dust  thou  art," 
Said  he,  "  and  unto  dust  thou  must  return." 


62  DEATH    OF    THE    FIRST    BORN. 

DEATH  OF  THE  FIRST  BORN. 

At  midnight  rose  the  proud  Egyptian  King, 
And  in  deep  meditation  trembling  sat. 

Far,  from  his  downy  couch  repose  had  fled ; 
And  hate  and  fear,  were  both,  alternate  now, 
Rankling  within  the  haughty  Monarch's  breast. 
Hard  as  the  adamant  his  heart  still  seemed. 
Unwilling  he,  to  let  the  chosen  race, 
Which  long  in  cruel  bondage  had  remained, 
Groaning  beneath  the  weight  of  burdens, 
Go  forth,  to  sacrifice  to  Israels'  God. 

Wonders,  most  dread  and  awful,  had  been  wrought 
Before  his  eves,  him  to  convince  ;  wonders 
Which  none  but  God  could  do ;  but  yet  his  heart 
Remained  unmoved.     He  sat  in  silence  wrapt, 
When  lo  !  a  piercing  cry  his  ear  did  reach, 
Which  of  the  deepest  grief  or  anguish  told. 
He,  trembling,  'rose,  anxious  to  know  from  whence 
Those  doleful  sounds ;  and  sought  the  chamber  where 
His  son.  his  eldest  born  alone  did  rest. 
He  oped  the  door,  and  what  a  shocking  sight ; 
There,  stretched  upon  the  bed  lay  him  he  sought. 
But  O !  how  changed.    Life:s  flowing  blood  stood  still — 
His  eye>  were  fixed  in  ghastly,  frightful  death ! 
He  stooped  and  quickly  raised  his  smitten  child. 
Oh !  my  son,  my  beauteous,  lovely  boy  ; 
Hadst  thou  but  lived  to  sit  upon  my  throne — 
The  royal  Sceptre  swayed. — His  cries  were  stopped. 


DEATH    OF    THE    FIRST    BORN.  63 

For  lo  !  the  sound  of  Death  !  Death  !  Death  arose 
From  lordly  mansions,  and  the  humble  tent ! 
From  all — save  those  whose  signal  lintels  told  ; 
The  Hebrew  stood  within,  bent  o'er  his  staff, 
Eating  with  bitter  herbs  the  Paschal  Lamb. 
These  alone,  the  destroijing  angel  passed, 
When  on  the  proud  Egyptian  race,  those  plagues — 
Those  awful  plagues,  the  great  Jehovah  sent. 

That  night,  the  aged  parents  stood  in  tears ; 
Wailing  o'er  him,  who  was  their  only  son ; 
Their  hope  and  comfort  in  declining  years. 
There,  too,  the  blooming  mother  sat,  childless, 
And  widowed.     Her  cries  most  doleful  were, 
The  loved  companion  of  her  youthful  heart 
Had  ceased  to  breathe !     Her  lovely  infant,  too, 
Without  a  groan,  had  sunk  in  silent  death. 
Bereaved  one ;  alone,  she  now  remains, 
And  frantic  seems  with  grief.     Sad  sight  indeed  ! 
But  see,  ah  !  yonder  sits  the  lovely  bride, 
Whom,  yester-morn  the  bright  and  happy  groom, 
To  the  hymeneal  altar  led.     Her  heart 
Is  filled  with  bitter  pangs ;  for  hi  in  she  loved 
Could  not  escape  the  mighty  angel's  power. 
Their  new  and  happy  dwelling  he  approached, 
And  with  an  icy  finger  touched  his  form, 
Death  seized  his  prey,  and  stilled  his  throbbing  heart. 

The  maniac,  too,  that  in  the  dungeon 
Sat,  raving  through  the  gloomy  night,  or  passed 


64  THE    PIOUS    MAID. 

The  live-long  day  in  piteous  moanings, 

And  howling  cries  ;  had  calmly  laid  him  down, 
And  when  the  keeper  came  to  give  him  food, 
Silent  and  cold  in  death  he  lay. 

A  solemn  gloom  the  land  o'erspread.     A  gloom, 
That  rested,  too,  on  every  trembling  heart. 
For  all  in  mourning  stood  that  fatal  night, 
And  each  in  tears  upon  the  other  looked 
As  if  they  soon  a  prey  to  death  would  fall. — 
Meanwhile  the  Israelites,  with  goodly  spoils, 
For  their  departure  quick  prepared,  and  through 
The  parted  waves,  triumphant  took  their  way. 


THE  PIOUS  MAID. 


I  saw  her  pass,  and  thought  a  pensive  gloom 
Sat  on  her  face.     Her  eyes  wrere  downwards  cast,- 
Her  lily  hands  were  folded  on  her  breast. 

All  unobserved,  I  watched  her  gentle  steps, 
And  saw  her  trace  the  windings  of  a  rill ; 
Until  her  lovely  form  was  almost  hid 
By  the  green  branches  of  some  waving  trees. 

Awhile  she  stood,  with  tearful,  downcast  eyes, 
Then  humbly  knelt  beside  the  noiseless  stream. 
Her  sparkling  eyes  were  now  to  heav'n  upraised, 
And  down  her  cheeks  fast  rolled  the  pearly  drops. 

It  was  not  for  herself  alone,  that  she 


THE    ORANGE    FLOWER.  65 

This  place  had  sought.     But  'twas  for  him  she  loved. 
'Twas  for  an  absent  friend,  that  there  in  tears, 
She  prayed  and  wrestled  with  her  blessed  God. 

Oh  Lord  !  protect  the  noble  youth,  she  cried, 
And  save  him  from  the  tempter's  fatal  snares ; — 
The  pious  maid,  then  gently  bowed  her  head, 
And  there,  alone,  in  converse  with  her  God, 
Communion,  sweet  and  solemn,  long  did  hold. 

She  rose,  but  not  in  tears;  a  smile  of  joy 
Lit  up  her  calm  and  lovely  face ;  and  she, 
Methought,  did  say,  "  I  know  I  shall  prevail, 
If  Jacob-like,  I  wrestle  with  my  God." 


THE  ORANGE  FLOWER. 

Sweet  germ  of  sunny  bowers, 
Too  frail  for  northern  ground  ; 

Where  cold  Autumnal  showers, 
And  winter  sweeps  around. 

But  in  thy  native  forest, 

Beneath  a  tropic  sky  ; 
Thy  glossy  leaf  will  nourish, 

Thy  purest  blossoms  lie. 

There  in  thy  pristine  beauty, 
The  opening  flowers  expand, — 

And  golden  fruit  so  pulpy 

With  buds  most  thickly  stand. 


66 


LINK-. 


Well  may  the  lovely  bride  seek, 
E'en  in  this  elime  of  ours, 

To  hide  her  rosy  blushing  cheek, 
Beneath  the  Orange  flowers. 


LTXES 


AFFECTIONATELY    ADDRESSED    TO    MY   BROTHER    IS    ILLINOIS,  ON    THE    SUDDEN 
DEATH    OF    HIS    LAST    AND    ONLY    CHILD. 


Again  my  smitten  brother  weeps,- 

Again  my  sister  dear, 
Her  sad  and  lonely  vigil  keeps, 

And  wipes  the  scalding  tear. 

Upon  their  breast  a  budding  rose 
Was  opening  fresh  and  fair; 

Each  day  its  petals  did  disclose 
New  beauties,  rich  and  rare. 


Xo  flower  in  all  that  prairie  wild, 

In  nature's  fullest  bloom, 
Could  emulate  that  budding  child, 

Or  shed  such  sweet  perfume. 

But  oh  !  that  prattling  voice  is  hushed, 
Which  filled  the  house  with  joy  ; 

In  one  short  hour  that  bud  is  crushed  - 
Thy  precious,  darling  boy 


A  DREAM  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  PLEASURE.     67 

Transplanted  now  to  that  bright  shore, 

Where  gems  immortal  form 
A  coronet,  which  evermore, 

Thy  Saviour  will  adorn. 

There,  let  it  sparkle  on  His  brow, 

Who  kindly  took  thy  child 
From  this  cold  soil  of  pain  and  woe, 

Ere  sin  its  heart  beguiled. 

I  know  thou  wouldst  not  take  again 

The  jewels  thou  has  given, 
And  dim  the  Saviour's  diadem 

That  lights  the  throne  of  heaven. 


A  DREAM  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  PLEASURE. 

In  fancy  I  stood  by  a  sweet  placid  stream, 

WThere  Cynthia  reflected  in  beauty  was  seen. 

A  train  of  bright  gems  in  rapture  she  led, 

And  shone  in  full  splendor  on  the  deep  crystal  bed. 

The  train  was  dispersed — a  murmur  arose 
From  that  fountain  where  pleasure  had  sought  repose, 
In  an  instant  the  goddess  arose  from  the  wave, 
And  beckoned  me  near  my  temples  to  lave. 


UO  TO    MR.    AND   MRS.    S. 

Then  down  in  the  stream  the  water  beneath 
She  hastly  wove  a  bright  coral  wreath, 
And  loudly  exclaimed  as  she  waved  it  full  high, 
"  Come  hither  fond  youth  its  virtues  now  try." 

A  moment  I  gazed — then  hasted  to  gain 
That  treasure,  I  long  had  sought  to  obtain ; 
My  hand  was  extended,  she  sank  from  my  view, 
And  far  from  my  feet  the  treasure  she  threw. 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  S , 

ON    THE    DEATH    OF    A    LOVELY    DAUGHTER. 

When  spring's  early  flowers  in  beauty  are  blooming, 

And  shedding  their  fragrance  abroad, 
How  sad,  if  the  dreary  north  wind  is  entombing, 

The  fairest  around  our  abode. 

And  thus,  we  oft  wonder,  when  death  the  destroyer, 

Approaches  the  dwelling  of  love, 
And  from  the  dear  circle — the  fairest — in  sorrow 

Bears  up  to  the  garden  above. 

The  tears  of  affection  the  pillow  will  moisten, 

And  silently  fill  on  the  grave ; 
Though  faith  sees  reclining  on  Jesus'  own  bosom, 

The  dear  one  their  tears  could  not  save. 


THE    SUMMER   ROSE.  69 

We  know  in  those  mansions  no  rude  winds  are  blowing, 

Nor  clouds  of  affliction  arise  ; 
But  sweeter  and  fairer  the  landscape  is  growing, 

For  sin  never  blighted  those  skies. 

Dear  Antoinette's  early  affections  were  given 

To  Jesus,  in  life's  rosy  morn ; 
And  angels  stooped  gently,  and  took  her  to  heaven, 

A  star  his  fair  brow  to  adorn. 

Then  peacefully  rest  thee,  thy  warfare  is  ended, 

Full  soon  thy  short  journey  was  o'er  ; 
And  with  the  bright  seraphs  in  rapture  is  blended, 

The  songs  thou  wilt  sing  evermore. 


THE  SUMMER  ROSE. 

Our  life  is  like  a  summer  rose, 
That  opes  at  dawn  of  day, 

But  ere  night  curtains  our  repose, 
It  fades,  or  dies  away. 

Can  nature  with  ten  thousand  charms 

To  us  one  zest  impart  % 
When  pain,  or  sick'ning  fear  alarms, 

Or  sorrows  pierce  the  heart. 


70 


FOR    AN    ALBUM. 

'Tis  not  from  earth,  our  comfort  springs ; 

But  heaven — a  higher  sphere  ; 
There's  nought  in  sublunary  things, 

Can  give  true  pleasure  here. 

But  oh !  there  is  a  brighter  sky 

Where  fadeless  roses  bloom, 
Where  joys  unsullied  never  die  ; 

Beyond,  beyond  the  tomb. 


FOR  AN  ALBOI. 


Go,  little  book,  from  friend  to  friend, 

And  a  memento  claim  ; 
Ask  from  affection's  gentle  hand, 

The  tribute  of  a  name. 

Time's  rapid  flight  will  leave  unchanged, 

These  autographs  so  dear  : 
Which  love  so  kindly  has  arranged. 

And  penned  with  pleasure  here. 


And  bending  o'er  some  favorite  • 
Thou  may'st  when  years  have  fled ; 

Thy  rising  grief  in  r  age, 

For  loved-ones  with  the  dead. 


THE    HOME    ABOVE.  71 

But  oh  !  if  Jesus'  dying  love 

Has  cleansed  the  heart  from  sin ; 
Kind  friends  again  shall  meet  above, 

And  crowns  immortal  win. 


THE  HOME  ABOVE. 

"There  remaineth,  therefore,  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God." — Bible. 

Oh  !  is  there  a  spot  in  the  wide,  wide  world, 
Where  the  weary  and  stricken  may  gain 

A  respit  from  storms  that  rudely  are  hurled 
On  the  bosom  still  smarting  with  pain  ? 

Oh  !  if  there  's  a  spot  where  sorrows  ne'er  come, 

I'll  hasten  to  find  it  and  make  it  my  home. 

Oh !  is  there  no  isle  on  the  blue  ocean's  breast, 
Where  the  invalid's  head  may  repose, 

And  quietly  slumber  or  peacefully  rest, 
Inhaling  the  breath  of  the  rose  1 

I  long  for  some  spot  where  sorrows  ne'er  come, 

And  could  I  but  find  it  I  'd  make  it  my  home. 

Why.  why  are  we  searching  ?     No  mortal  e'er  found 

A  place  on  this  sin-stricken  earth  ; 
But  Satan's  foul  breath  spreads  anguish  around, 

And  tears  wet  the  bosom  of  mirth ! 
Ah !  vain  is  the  effort,  and  sadly  we  roam, 
In  search  of  that  haven — Earth  is  not  our  home. 


72  WE    SHALL    MEET    AGAIN. 

But  in  the  blest  volume  of  truth  we  are  told 
Of  mansions,  where  sorrows  ne'er  come, 

No  sin  ever  entered  the  door  of  that  fold, 
And  death's  cruel  scythe  is  unhung. 

Beyond  the  bright  stars  that  twinkle  above, 

By  faith  may  we  look  to  those  mansions  of  love. 

There,  there  is  the  spot  where  the  weary  may  rest — 
'Tis  the  haven  my  soul  would  obtain  ; 

The  home  of  the  pure — the  home  of  the  blest ; 
Where  Jesus,  the  Lamb  that  was  slain, 

In  fulness  of  glory,  exults  in  His  love ; 

Oh  !  there  is  my  home,  in  those  mansions  above! 


WE  SHALL  MEET  AGAIN. 

WRITTEN    AFTER    RECEIVING    A   VISIT    FROM    A    LONG    ABSENT    BROTHER. 

We  have  met  and  we  have  parted, 
Joy,  by  tears  is  chased  away. 

Golden  hours,  too  soon  departed, 
Oh  how  transient  pleasure's  sway ! 

I  have  lived  my  childhood  over, 

Chased  the  butterflies  again ; 
Been  with  thee  a  happy  rover, 

On  the  mountain  and  the  plain. 


WE    SHALL    MEET    AGAIN.  73 

I  have  pillow'd  on  my  bosom, 

Joyfully  thy  infant  head ; 
Plucked  again  the  fragrant  blossom 

To  adorn  thy  sleeping  bed. 

Childhood's  happy  hours  sped  sweetly, 

Youth's  bright  days  were  quickly  passed — 

Manhood's  prime  is  passing  fleetly, 
We  shall  reach  the  goal  at  last. 

Sorrow's  blight  has  crushed  our  ardor  ; 

Sad  afflictions  wrung  the  heart ; 
Buds  have  opened  in  love's  arbor, 

But  to  cheer  us  and  depart. 

Ah,  my  dear  and  much-loved  brother, 

Earth  is  not  our  place  of  rest ; 
Glorious  hope  points  to  another — 

'Tis  the  mansions  of  the  blest. 

Oh,  that  we  may  clasp  each  other, 

On  those  verdant  hills  above  ; 
When  earth's  parting  scenes  are  over, 

Filled  with  holier,  sweeter  love. 
4 


74  THE   BIBLE    BAYED. 


THE  BIBLE  -.WED. 

A  fire  recently  occurred  in  our  cily,  when  -  and  dwellings  were 

lev.  led  to  the  ground.  The  fire  was  discovered  about  I  o'clock  at  night,  while 
the  occupants  were  wrapt  in  slumber,  and  owing  to  the  combustible  material, 
the  flames  Bpread  with  great  rapidity.  Several  families  barely  escaped  in  their 
night-clothes;  and  one  individual  perished  in  the  flames.  One  lather  had  suc- 
ceeded in  removing  his  family  and  some  few  things  from  the  devouring  ele- 
ment; when  his  little  BOD  exclaimed,  ''lather,  have  you  gol  the  Bible?"  N". 
my  dear,  was  the  reply.  ltOh,  lather,  do  save  the  Bible."  The  lather  rushed 
through  the  flames,  and  -non  returned  with  the  precious  book,  which  be  pre- 
sented lo  his  darling  child,  who  clasped  it  in  his  arms  and  kissed  it.  while  the 
tears  ran  down  his  Utile  Cheeks.  Dear  child,  the  book  was  saved  ;  and  oh,  may 
its  precious  truths  be  the  means  of  saving  thee  and  many  others,  from  that 
more  fearful  place,  where  the  worm  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is  not  quenched. 

The  curling  smoke  ascended  high, 
While  the  crackling  flames  arose ; 

And  threatened  inmates,  shriek  and  cry, 
As  they  start  from  their  repose. 

Half  frantic  through  the  scorching  heat, 
Loved  ones  with  their  children  haste ; 

And  safely  reached  the  crowded  street, 
Where  they  wept  with  fond  embrace. 

"  Oh,  have  you,  pa,  the  Bible  got  ?" 
Cried  a  child  with  trembling  voice, 

"  Or  does  it  in  the  ruins  lie, 
Thu  book  of  my  early  choice  ! 

"  Do  save  it,  pa,"  and  through  the  flames, 

The  undaunted  father  flew  ; 
And  from  the  smoking  ruins  came, 

With  the  Bible  good  as  new. 


THE    HOME    OF    MY    CHILDHOOD.  75 

The  dear  boy  pressed  it  to  his  heart, 

While  he  fondly  kissed  it  o'er ; 
And  tears  more  freely  now  did  start, 

As  he  viewed  his  precious  store. 

Sweet  child  !  e'er  prize  this  blessed  book, 
'Tis  the  Christian's  guide  to  heaven ; 

And  here  for  comfort  thou  may'st  look, 
When  the  ties  of  earth  are  riven. 

Yes,  when  the  fiercer  flames  ascend, 

And  deluge  this  earth  and  sky  ; 
God  will  his  own  bright  angels  send, 

And  take  his  people  on  high. 


THE  HOME  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 

The  following  lines  were  occasioned  by  visiting  the  place  of  my  nativity 
a  few  days  since. 

Ah  !  'tis  my  own  dear  native  land, 
With  tearful  eyes  again  I  view  ; 

That  mountain  range  so  nobly  grand, 
Tinged  with  pale  autumn's  golden  hue. 

Dear  native  spot !     Thou  look'st  the  same 
As  when,  in  childhood's  happy  pride, 

I  bounded  forth  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

To  climb  yon  mountain's  rugged  side. 


76  THE    BEST    FRIEND. 

In  dreams  how  oft  do  I  retrace 

My  native  haunts  of  childish  glee; 

And  clasp,  in  fancy's  wild  embrace, 
Kind  friends,  which  now  no  more  I  see. 

But  oh !  I'll  seek  the  clay-cold  bed, 

Which  hides  their  bodies  from  my  sight ; 

And  weep  o'er  joys  forever  fled, 
As  memory  points  to  past  delight. 

Then  faith  shall  mount  that  blissful  shore, 
Where  kindred  friends  adoring  meet ; 

Recounting  all  their  suffering  o'er, 
And  lay  their  crowns  at  Jesus'  feet. 


THE  BEST  FRIEND. 

Ellie  and  shall  I  write  my  name, 

First  in  this  book  of  thine  ? 
Some  dearer  friend  the  task  might  claim, 

Pray  then  shall  it  be  mine  'I 

Since  'tis  thy  wish  it  shall  be  so, 

But  first  one  precious  truth 
On  this  fair  page,  please  let  me  throw, 

To  cheer  thee  in  thy  youth. 

A  friend — nay  many  friends  thou  hast, 
And  this  is  very  sweet ; 


AUTUMNAL    BREATHINGS.  77 

But  One,  whose  friendship  ever  lasts, 
Canst  thou  with  rapture  greet  % 

Christ  is  a  friend,  whose  love  is  pure, 

And  sheds  immortal  bloom  ; 
Its  fragrance  will  through  time  endure, 

And  live  beyond  the  tomb. 

Come  then,  on  this  kind  friend  bestow 

Thy  young  and  trusting  heart ; 
His  love  will  cheer  thee  here  below, 

And  heaven  new  bliss  impart. 


AUTUMNAL  BREATHINGS. 

There  is  a  sacred  pleasure, 

When  Summer  flowers  depart ; 
Though  Autumn's  golden  treasure 
Lies  heaped  upon  the  heart. 
We  feel  the  gloom  'tis  so  profound, 
It  broods  above,  beneath,  around. 

The  tiny  bud  that  struggles, 

To  greet  the  noon-day  sun ; 
Scarce  opes  its  fading  petals, 
Ere  evening  shadows  come ; 
Night's  freezing  breath  then  sweeps  the  bower, 
And  prostrate  lays  the  last  lone  flower. 


78  AUTUMNAL    BREATHINGS. 

A  holy  awe  comes  orer  me, 

When  in  the  wood y  grove ; 
I  spread  the  leaves  before  me, — 
Those  leaves  I  onee  did  love ; 
All  faded,  withered  now  and  sear. 
rMid  other  wrecks,  on  time's  sad  bier. 

The  frost-king  sits  as  monarch, 

Upon  his  icy  throne ; 
And  over  nature  triumphs, 
His  will  supreme  alone ; 
He  moves  with  cold  relentless  hand, 
And  conquers  with  his  chilling  wand. 

So  fades  each  bud  and  blossom, — 

Earth  doffs  her  robe  of  green  ; 
And  on  her  wintry  bosom. 
The  robe  of  death  is  seen  ; 
And  nature  weeps,  but  stands  aghast, 
Her  tears  are  frozen  by  the  blast. 

But  Spring's  mild  breath  shall  waken, 

The  early  flowers  again  ; 
And  forests  rudely  shaken. 
Put  off  their  icy  chain  : 
And  stand  with  verdure  clothed  anew, 
And  drink  again  the  morning  dew. 

So  shall  the  body  moulder, 
Beneath  the  clayey  sod  ; 


THE    AMERICAN    SAILOR    AND    THE    BIRDS.  79 

Till  Gabriel  breaks  the  slumber, 
And  takes  it  up  to  God. 
Then  clothed  afresh,  with  grace  divine, 
In  peerless  robes  the  saints  shall  shine. 


THE  AMERICAN  SAILOR  AND  THE  BIRDS. 

My  pretty  birds,  who  '11  buy  %  who  '11  buy  % 
No  brighter  plumes  e'er  met  the  eye, — 
And  sweeter  notes  were  never  heard 
Chaunted  by  any  little  bird. 

Who  '11  buy  %  Who  '11  buy  %   Sir,  will  you  not  ? 
They  '11  chase  your  cares,  if  cares  you  've  got ; 
And  be  quite  happy,  sir,  you  know, 
To  share  the  bounty  you  bestow. 

Come,  generous  sailor,  pray  take  one, 
Say  sixpence,  and  the  bargain's  done — 
He  '11  charm  you  with  his  pretty  words — 
Come,  take  the  choicest  of  my  birds. 

The  freeborn  sailor  viewed  them  o'er,- 
While  thus  he  stood  on  foreign  shore ; 
Then  spoke,  amidst  his  flowing  tears — 
"  I  've  been  a  pris'ner,  too,  for  years. 


80  THE    LAST    SMILE. 

"By  stranger  hands  I  have  been  fed, 
And  eat  a  June  my  loathsome  bread — 
So  I  will  set  these  captives  free, 
I  know  the  joys  of  Liberty." 

Abash'd  and  with  a  downcast  look, 
The  proffered  boon  the  seller  took : 
And  soon  the  captives  sung  on  high, 
Their  notes  of  freedom  through  the  sky. 


THE  LAST  SMILE. 


I  saw  a  happy  mother  press 

Her  baby  to  her  heart, 
And  then  bestow  the  fond  caress 

A  mother  can  impart. 
And  when  I  saw  her  lips  repose 

Upon  its  soft  warm  cheek 
More  sweet  than  morning's  opening  rose 

"Where  bees  rich  nectar  seek  ; 


I  thought  of  my  dear  Judson's  smile, 

The  last  bestowed  on  me, 
And  down  my  face  the  tears  the  while 

Were  coursing  fast  and  free. 
And  though  by  faith  my  eyes  had  seen 

The  bright  celestial  band. 
His  spirit  bear  through  yon  blue  sheen 

Up  to  that  better  land. 


LINES. 


81 


When  with  sweet  smiles  of  holy  love 

Beside  the  pearly  gate 
To  welcome  him  to  joys  above 

His  brother*  did  await  ; 
Then  safely  lead  him  to  the  throne, 

To  join  that  ceaseless  song, 
Where  Christ  my  darling  babe  did  crown, 

Amidst  the  happy  throng. 

And  though  my  smitten,  bleeding  heart, 

Lost  in  the  will  of  God, 
Had  sought  the  balm  Heaven  can  impart 

And  bowed  beneath  the  rod ; 
I  could  but  wish  that  I  once  more 

Might  clasp  my  angel  boy, 
I  felt  I  'd  kiss  him  o'er  and  o'er, 

With  more  than  mortal  joy. 


LIKES 


WRITTEN    ON     RECEIVING    A    BRIGHT    YELLOW    FLOWER,    A    SPECIES    OF    EVER- 
LASTING, FROM  A  MISSISSIPPI  FRIEND    IN    SOUTH  AFRICA.      I    HAVE    STYLED 
IT    THE    AFRICAN    EVERLASTING — EMBLEM    OF    CHRISTIAN    LOVE. 

On  sable  Afric's  sunny  plain 

A  flower  in  beauty  stood, 
Nursed  by  the  dews  and  gentle  rain, 

Sent  by  the  hand  of  God. 

*  My  former  lost  one. 
4* 


1 


82 


LINES. 


Each  morn  its  golden  leaves  were  spread, 

To  greet  the  rising  sun ; 
And  heavenward  fragrant  odors  sped, 

A  boon  for  blessings  won. 

A  kindred  spirit,  who  had  sought 
That  land  of  doubt  and  gloom, 

To  bear  the  message  Jesus  brought 
For  Ethiopia's  sons, 

First  saw  its  opening  beauty  start, 

And  felt  its  magic  power ; 
Then  plucked  and  laid  upon  her  heart 

That  lovely  yellow  flower. 

And  brighter  through  her  flowing  tears 

Its  golden  petals  shone  ; 
She  thought  of  friends  her  heart  revered, 

Of  kindred,  and  of  home. 

Go,  little  gem,  said  she,  and  cheer 

One  heart  by  sorrow  riven  ; 
A  message  to  her  spirit  bear, 

Of  hope,  of  joy,  and  heaven. 


And  o'er  the  foaming,  raging  deep, 
On  tossing  waves  it  flew  ; 

A  sacred  charge  it  had  to  keep, 
The  Christian's  love  in  view. 


FOR    AN    ALBUM.  83 

Bright  Everlasting  !  Starry  flower, 

Like  diadems  above ; 
Thrice  welcome  here,  I  own  thy  power, 

Emblem  of  Christian  love. 

Dear  friend,  toil  on  in  heathen  lands, 

Rest  on  His  precious  word  ; 
Till  Ethiopia's  sable  hands 

Stretch  forth  in  praise  to  God. 

Then,  in  heaven's  own  resplendent  bowers, 

May  we  the  parted  meet, 
Where  sweeter  amaranthine  flowers 

Adorn  that  blest  retreat, 


FOR  AX  ALBUM. 

If  o'er  this  book  thy  form  should  bend, 

When  many  years  have  fled, 
Perchance  you  '11  meet  some  much-loved  friend 

Who  slumbers  with  the  dead. 

Past  scenes  thy  memory  will  retrace, 

As  much-loved  names  appear  ; 
Perhaps  a  mother's  fond  embrace, 

A  sister's  parting  tear. 


84  THE    BROKEN    VOW. 

'Tis  meet  to  cherish  thoughts  of  those 
Who  shared  thy  infant  smiles, 

Or  strove  to  soothe  thy  little  woes, 
And  every  care  beguile. 

And  then  what  joy  to  look  above, 
Where  kindred  spirits  meet ! 

If  fraught  with  Jesus'  dying  love, 
Reunion  will  be  sweet. 


THE  BROKEN"  VOW. 

I  remember  when  he  pressed  me,  in  anguish  to  his  heart, 
And  how  fondly  he  caressed  me,  when  he  said  that  we 

must  part ; 
And  we  vowed  that  nought  should  sever,  but  death,  the 

tender  tie 
That  bound  us  to  each  other,  beneath  the  moonlit  sky. 

I  remember  well  love's  token,  he  sent  across  the  sea ; 
But  oh,  my  vows  were  broken,  its  charms  were  lost  to 

me, 
For  flatt'ring  lips  had  won  me,  and  wealth  lay  at  my 

feet ; 
Bright  jewels  sparkled  on  me,  ah !  then  how  could  I 

weep? 


THE    BROKEN    VOW.  85 

A  twelve-mouth  passed  too  quickly,  and  then  agaiu  we 

met ; 
I  stood  at  hymen's  altar.  but  oh !  I  "11  ne'er  forget 
The  look  he  cast  upon  me.  't  was  not  of  bitter  scorn. 
He  wildly  gazed  around  me.  then  passed  in  silence  on. 

Years  fled — I  stood  in  sorrow,  beside  a  maniac's  cell  ; 

I  heard  him  say.  "  they  wronged  her.  I  know  she  loved 
me  well. 

When  our  parting  words  were  spoken,  beneath  the  moon- 
lit tree. 

They  said  her  vows  were  broken,  but  oh !  it  ne'er  could 
be.'' 

He  turned  and  gazed  with  wonder,  upon  my  tearful  eye. 
Then  tore  his  chains  asunder,  and  said  with  piercing  cry. 
••  I  knew  that  you  would  meet  me.  my  sweet  angelic 

dove. 
Come  rest  upon  my  bosom,  "t  is  throbbing  still  with 

love." 

They  bore  me  from  his  presence,  but  oh !  my  heart  was 

broke : 
I  breathed  not   to  my  husband,   the  truth  the  maniac 

spoke  : 
But  well  did  I  remember,  the  anguish  of  his  heart. 
When  he  wept  upon  my  bosom,  and  said  ,;  "t  is  sad  to 

part.'' 


86 


AN  .EMBLEM. 


AN  EMBLEM. 

I  saw  a  Tire,  "t  was  \  uimg  and  fair, 
And  reared  its  head  with  modest  care  ; 
The  opening  blossoms  fragrance  threw- 
Its  tender  leaves  were  wet  with  dew — 
And  as  the  sun  displayed  his  light 
A  thousand  hues  burst  on  my  sight. 

Jovial  and  sweet  the  boughs  among 
The  morning  birds  in  rapture  sung, 
'Till  golden  plumes  bore  them  away, 
Repeating  still  their  joyful  lay  : 
And  as  they  fled,  I  said  that  Tree 
An  emblem  of  my  life  shall  be. 


I  viewed  it  o'er  and  o'er  each  morn, 
And  O  !  I  feared  the  coming  storm 
Lest  from  its  trunk  the  whirlwind's  blast 
Might  some  dear  bough  at  random  cast  ; 
Or  pelting  rains  those  beauties  harm, 
Divesting  it  of  every  charm. 

But  soon,  alas  !  its  robe  so  gay 
Was  slightly  tinged  with  slow  decay  ; 
I  ween,  the  unconscious  worm  had  found 
Some  tender  root  beneath  the  ground  ; 
And  long  had  revelled  there  unseen, 
Beneath  the  turf  of  lovely  green. 


THE    ORPHAN.  87 

Beside  that  tree  I  sat  me  down 

And  wept  that  one  so  fair  was  found, 

With  withered  trunk,  and  faded  form, 

In  summer's  bloom,  in  youth's  bright  morn. 

And  O !  alas,  my  dreams  of  bliss, 

Were  transient  too,  allied  to  this. 


THE   OKPHAN. 


[Written  in  an  Album,  opposite  an  engraving  representing  a  little 
girl,  with  a  basket  of  flowers,  sitting  by  the  side  of  an  aged  tree  in  a 
grave-yard,  weeping.] 

Alone,  beside  that  aged  tree, 

Where  roses  sweetly  bloom, 
Methinks  an  orphan-child  I  see 

Close  by  a  mother's  tomb. 

There,  too,  perchance  a  father  sleeps, 
Who  breathed  his  dying  prayer, 

That  God,  for  Jesus'  sake,  would  keep 
His  child  from  Satan's  snare. 

Well  may  she  weep,  if  parents  dear, 

Are  'neath  that  grassy  bed  ; 
And  she  a  lonely  wanderer  here, 

This  thorny  maze  to  tread. 


88  TO    A    FRIEND. 

But  dry  those  tears,  for  God  will  be 

The  lonely  orphan's  friend  ; 
If  thou  to  Him  for  aid  will  flee, 

His  mercy  He'll  extend. 

He'll  guide  you  by  his  holy  word, 
Where  fairer  roses  bloom  ; 

Amidst  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
Far  from  the  silent  tomb. 


TO  A  FRIEND. 

Oh  bid  me  not  my  thoughts  to  seal 
Or  keep  within  this  breast, — 

To  impart  to  thee  half  what  I  feel, 
Would  make  me  doubly  blest. 

For  O  !  I  look  with  pleasure  back 

On  many  a  joyful  scene, 
But  find  none  in  my  wayward  track 

So  sweet  as  ours  have  been. 

To  think  of  thee — of  joys  gone  by, 
Endears  thee  more  and  more, 

Makes  present  hours  more  swiftly  fly, 
Though  much  thy  absence  I  deplore. 


IMMANUEL,    GOD    WITH    US.  89 

Then  O  !  let  fond  affection's  chain 

More  firmly  bind  each  heart 
And  every  tender  tie  remain 

Unshaken,  though  awhile  we  part. 


DOtANUEL,  GOD  WITH  US. 

God  with  us, — Immanuel  here, 
Transporting  thought !  what  words  to  cheer, 
If  pilgrims  walking  through  life's  maze, 
Acknowledge  him  in  all  their  ways, 
He  will  direct  their  steps  aright, 
And  guide  to  realms  of  purer  light. 

Art  thou  a  creature  here  oppress'd  1 
Do  pains  and  sorrows  rend  thy  breast  ? 
Or  floods  and  flames  thy  path  enthrall  1 
Arise,  and  on  thy  Saviour  call — 
From  trouble,  He  to  free  thee  came, 
And  thou  shalt  praise  his  holy  name. 

In  dark  temptation's  fearful  hour, 

He  is  thy  shield  and  thy  strong  tower ; 

In  that  he  suffered  here  below, 

He  feels  with  us  the  tempter's  blow ; 

And  able  is  he  to  defend, 

For  he  is  an  Almighty  friend. 


90  IMMANUEL,    GOD    WITH    US. 

And  dost  thou  feel  how  poor  thou  art  % 
Thy  God  still  bears  thee  on  his  heart ; 
Thou  may'st  be  little  and  unknown, 
But  he  will  ne'er  a  child  disown ; 
As  gems  of  love  thy  name  shall  stand, 
Engraven  on  his  own  right  hand. 

When  through  rough  scenes  thy  path  shall  lie, 

Pray  to  thy  God,  He  still  is  nigh ; 

All  things  together  work  for  good, 

To  those  who  love  the  path  he  trod, 

And  when  the  vale  of  death  is  near, 

Hid  rod  and  staff  thy  heart  shall  cheer. 

And  when  the  grave  for  thee  shall  ope, 

Thy  body  still  shall  rest  in  hope : 

For  in  his  book  thy  members  stand, 

All  written  by  his  faithful  hand ; 

And  when  the  last  loud  trump  shall  sound, 

Thy  scattered  dust  shall  all  be  found. 

Oh !  glorious  thought,  the  saints  shall  rise 
In  spotless  robes  and  mount  the  skies ; 
And  'round  the  throne  with  rapture  tell, 
The  wonders  of  Immanuel. 
There,  God  with  us,  still  is  the  theme, 
Forever  more,  amen !  amen  ! 


A   MORNING   IN   MAY.  1)1 


A  HORDING  IN"  MAY ; 

OR    LINKS    TO   A    LADY    IN    REMEMBRANCE    OF   HER    WEDDING    DAT. 

"The  air  was  fragrance,  and  the  world  was  love." 

'T  was  mom,  and  nature  dressed  in  May 
Profusely  smiled,  and  all  was  gay. 
Each  verdant  plant  adoring  stood, 
While  music  woke  the  waving  wood. 

In  mazy  windings  through  the  glade, 
The  murmuring  rill  in  beauty  played ; 
And  bending  o'er  that  rolling  stream, 
The  violet  dipped  its  leaves  of  green. 

High  in  the  heaven's,  in  silence  sweet, 
The  mist  arose  light  clouds  to  meet ; 
And  sparkling  in  the  morning  sun, 
Around,  the  flowers  their  fragrance  flung. 

The  lovely  earth  rejoicing  lay, 
As  Sol's  bright  beams  led  on  the  day ; 
And  rising  from  their  sleeping  bed, 
The  fragrant  zephyrs  gently  sped. 

That  morn,  all  pleasure  could  impart, 
Each  note  with  rapture  filled  thy  heart ; 
Delightful  all,  and  decked  in  charms. 
As  nature  lay  in  Flora's  arms. 


02 


THE    CONTRAST. 


THE    CONTRAST; 


OR,    LINES    TO    THE    SAME    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    HER    HUSBAND. 

'•  Vegetation  lay  mouldering  in  decay. 
And  nature  in  silence  mourned." 

'T  was  eve,  the  cold  autumnal  blast, 
O'er  hill  and  dale  in  moanings  passed  ; 
And  far  o'er  sea,  to  isles  unknown, 
The  summer-birds  away  had  flown. 

Barren,  the  trees  their  branches  reared, 
Save  where  some  golden  leaves  appeared ; 
Trembling  in  twilight's  dusky  veil, 
Or  bowed  before  the  sighing  gale. 

Throwing  her  light  with  trembling  glance, 
O'er  dying  nature's  wild  expanse ; 
Pale  Cynthia  in  the  east  was  seen, 
Emerging  with  her  silvery  sheen. 

Arising  from  their  sleeping  beds, 
Dark  folding  clouds  disclosed  their  heads ; 
Contending  as  their  peaks  they  reared, 
'Till  all  a  solemn  gloom  appeared. 

That  eve.  what  pleasure  could  impart? 
"What  cheer  thy  lonely  bleeding  heart  % 
How  gloomy  all !  bereft  of  charms, 
As  nature  lay  in  sorrow's  arms  ! 


"  HE    DOETH    ALL    THINGS    WELL."  93 


"  HE  DOETH  ALL  THINGS  WELL." 

LINES    SUGGESTED    BY    A    SERMON    OF    REV.    J.    R.    STONE,    IN  WHICH 
REFERRED    TO    THE    LAST    WORDS    AND    TRIUMPHANT 
DEATH    OJ'     HIS    WIFE. 

I  heard  a  voice  from  the  couch  of  woe, 
Where  a  mother's  heart  was  yearning, 

With  love  which  none  but  mothers  know, 
As  their  souls  to  heaven  are  turning. 

"  He  doeth  all  things  well,"  she  said, 
I  '11  leave  each  precious  blossom, 

And  sweetly  rest  my  dying  head 
Upon  his  gracious  bosom. 

These  ties  which  bound  my  spirit  here — 
These  rose-buds  God  hath  given, 

I  've  cherished  with  a  mother's  care, 
But  now  these  ties  are  riven. 

Ah !  yes,  ';  He  doeth  all  things  well," 

His  grace  my  soul  sustaineth ; 
And  though  death's  billows  round  me  swell, 

I  feel  my  Jesus  reigneth. 


In  triumph  soon  my  soul  shall  rise, 
And  soar  on  heavenly  pinions  ; 

And  far  above  these  lowering  skies, 
I  '11  range  those  widj  dominions. 


94  DEATH. 

There  Jesus  "  doeth  all  things  well," 
For  sin  and  death  can  never 

With  grief  those  happy  bosoms  swell, 
Or  kindred  spirits  sever. 

But  God  shall  wipe  all  tears  away, 
And  when,  through  countless  ages, 

I  've  praised  him  in  that  bright  array, 
I  've  just  begun  his  praises. 


DEATH. 

The  ties  of  love,  death  heedeth  not — 
Nor  helpless  orphan's  tear, 

Or  frantic  widow's  grief  can  stop 
Him  in  his  sad  career. 


No  place,  no  circumstance  can  turn 

His  fated  shaft  aside  ; 
The  hapless  groom  is  left  to  mourn 

His  lovely  angel  bride. 

The  palace  groans  at  his  approach, 

Unlocks  its  stately  door  ; 
The  mother  on  her  gilded  couch 
Looks  up,  and  breathes  no  more. 


THE    CALM    OF    DEATH.  95 

And  in  the  gloomy  hut  of  wo, 

Mid  crumbling  ruins,  where 
Pale  want  sits  brooding,  still  and  slow, 

He  steals  in  silence  there. 

Trembling  in  rags  and  sorrow,  lies 

The  victim  of  his  search  ; 
The  pulse  is  stilled,  the  arrow  flies, 

And  death  is  on  the  march. 

'T  was  ever  thus,  since  Cain's  vile  blow 

Was  felt  near  Eden's  gate  ; 
Man  sips  his  pleasure,  tastes  his  wo, 

And  death  seals  up  his  fate. 


THE    CALM    OF    DEATH. 

Come,  clasp  those  hands  so  meekly, 
Upon  that  calm,  still  breast ; 

And  close  those  eyes  so  gently, 
Those  weary  eyes  need  rest. 

And  part  those  damp  locks  over 
That  cold  white  marble  brow; 

Care  never  there  can  hover, 
Or  light  upon  it  now. 


96  THE    CALM    OF    DEATH. 

Closed  is  that  ear  for  ever, 

Which  kindness  sweetly  stirred 

Or  felt  a  pang,  if  ever 
Vile  calumny  was  heard. 

Those  lips  are  sealed  to  pleasure, 
That  gave  the  tender  kiss, — 

That  voice  is  hushed  for  ever, 
That  spoke  a  mother's  bliss. 

Earth,  open  now  thy  bosom, 
And  let  the  weary  sleep  ; 

Since  all  thy  ties  are  riven, 
This  precious  casket  keep. 

O,  if  these  links  thus  broken, 
In  darkness  ever  lie ; 

When  love's  last  word  is  spoken, 
'T  were  more  than  death  to  die. 

But  faith  and  hope  are  given, 
The  Christian's  heart  to  cheer  ; 

And  these  look  up  to  heaven, 
Where  darkness  disappears. 


There,  stronger  ties  are  twining, 
And  love's  eternal  chain 

In  purer  links  is  binding 
The  loved,  who  meet  again. 


A   DREAM    OF    CHILDHOOD.  97 

A    DREAM    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

Mother  !  why  is  that  pearly  tear 

Within  your  downcast  eye  ? 
And  why  that  heavy  sigh  I  hear  ? 

Dear  mother,  tell  me  why. 

Say,  what  has  made  your  gentle  heart 

To  throb  with  silent  grief? 
Mother,  the  cause  to  me  impart, 

Perhaps  't  will  give  relief. 

"  'Twas  busy  mem'ry,  child,  that  brought 

The  mist  into  my  eye ; — 
A  summer  cloud  with  pleasure  fraught 

That  passed  too  quickly  by. 

I  stood  again  with  tiny  feet, 

Beside  my  father's  door  ; 
Where  I  those  blissful  joys  did  meet, 

I  feasted  on  of  yore. 

It  was  a  bright  and  sunny  morn, 

The  busy  bees  were  out ; 
And  I,  adown  the  verdant  lawn, 

Was  frolicking  about. 

And  then  I  traced  a  narrow  walk, 

That  through  the  garden  led  ; 
And  beauteous  flowers  on  every  stalk, 

Around  their  fragrance  shed. 


98  A    DREAM    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

Night's  dewy  breath  in  its  career 
Ha  ach  opening  bud; 

And  in  each  sparkling  cup  a  tear 
Of  balmy  sweetness  stood. 

Beside  the  rose,  rich  with  perfume, 

I  laid  me  down  so  still ; 
For  there  the  humming-bird  had  come, 

His  slender  beak  to  fill. 

Well  poised  on  noisy  wing  he  sipped 
From  each  the  honey  dew ; 

His  dress  was  green,  but  richly  tipped 
With  gold  and  azure  blue. 

And  next  I  crossed  the  little  stream, 

Just  at  the  garden  gate, 
Which  sparkled  in  each  radiant  beam, 

And  seemed  with  joy  elate. 

Then  up  the  grassy  green  hill-side 

I  hasted  with  delight ; 
And  viewed  the  landscape  spreading  wide. 

Magnificent  and  bright. 

Down  in  the  vale  so  humbly  stood 

My  once  dear  quiet  home. 
Embowered  amidst  the  shady  wood 

Of  apple,  peach,  and  plum. 


ANTICIPATION.  99 

And  while  I  gazed,  that  lovely  place 

A  paradise  did  seem  ; 
And  angels  there  with  joy  might  trace 

The  beauties  of  that  dream. 

Then  wonder  not,  my  daughter  dear, 

When  scenes  like  these  are  nigh, 
That  thou  shouldst  see  thy  mother's  tear, 

Or  hear  the  heavy  sigh." 


ANTICIPATION. 


What  pleasure  will  pervade  the  breast, 

AVhen  hope  presents  anew 
The  prospect  of  an  absent  guest, 

Returning  to  our  view. 

When  hearts  again  in  love  can  meet, 
And  friendly  hands  be  pressed  ; 

And  their  fond  lips  each  other  greet, 
And  fears  be  lulled  to  rest. 

How  sweetly  Time  will  pass  away, 
When  souls  are  blessed  so  dear ; 

And  leave  behind  its  cheering  ray, 
In  hearts  that  are  sincere. 


100      SABBATH  AND  SANCTUARY  PRIVILEGES  LAMENTED. 

SABBATB    AN'D    SANCTUARY   PRIVILEGES 
LAMENTED. 

The  Sabbath  bell,  the  Sabbath  bell, 

Its  tones  I  love  to  hear, — 
Though  of  departed  joys  the  knell, 

It  brings  to  mem'ry  dear 
The  thought  of  hours  when  I  could  sit. 
And  worship  at  my  Saviour's  feet. 

Those  happy  days,  those  happy  days, 

With  all  their  joys  have  fled  ; 
And  ne'er  again  with  songs  of  praise 

Shall  I  his  temple  tread, 
Or  bow  with  those  who  worship  there, 
To  offer  up  the  grateful  prayer. 

Thy  holy  courts,  thy  holy  courts, 

O  Zion,  still  are  dear ; 
There  my  best  friends  with  joy  resort, 

To  worship  in  God's  fear  : 
But  ne'er  again  my  weary  feet 
Shall  bear  me  to  that  blest  retreat. 

A  brighter  day,  a  brighter  day 

On  me  will  shortly  dawn ; 
Where  one  effulgent  holy  ray 

Lights  up  that  Sabbath  morn, 
With  glory  brighter  than  the  sun, 
And  lasting  as  my  Father's  throne. 


MY   FRIEND.  101 

No  sickness  there,  no  sickness  there 

Shall  waste  my  feeble  frame ; 
No  blighting  storms  of  sin  or  care 

Reach  that  supernal  plain, 
Where  glorious  mansions  closely  stand, 
Prepared  long  since  by  God's  own  hand. 

Oh  !  happy  place,  oh  !  happy  place ! 

My  soul,  why  cling  to  earth  ? 
O  Jesus,  grant  sufficient  grace, 

Then  send  thy  summons  forth, 
And  take  thy  weary  child  above, 
Where  all  is  rest,  where  all  is  love. 


MY   FRIEXI). 


My  friend,  though  far  thy  steps  have  strayed 
From  scenes  of  childhood's  early  day ; 

And  thou  in  other  parts  hast  made 
Thy  home,  thy  love  is  far  away. 

Do  not  thy  thoughts  oft  fondly  trace, 
My  native  haunts  of  peace  and  joy  ? 

And  tell  me  neither  time  nor  space, 
The  bond  of  love  can  e'er  destroy  ? 


102  MY    SPINNING-WHEEJ,. 

Though  gay  Manhattan  holies  appear, 
To  them  no  tie  thy  heart  shall  bind ; 

But  fondly  wilt  thou  e'er  revere, 
Those  warm  affections  left  behind. 

Thus  bound  to  each  by  love's  strong  ties, 
Shall  friendship's  true-born  feelings  blend ; 

And  teach  our  tender  hearts  to  prize, 
And  call  each  other  Lover,  Friend, 

When  through  fine  streets  thy  footsteps  roam  ; 

Ah  !  hither  dost  thy  heart  expand  % 
She,  whom  thou  lovest,  perhaps,  at  home 

Alone,  far  in  her  native  land. 


MY    SPINNING-WHEEL. 

Ah  !  well,  do  I  remember, 

How  happy  I  did  feel, 
When  twining  threads  so  slender, 

Upon  my  spinning-wheel. 

The  flax  all  soft  and  silky, 
Was  on  the  distaff Wound ; 

Then  by  a  crank  so  swiftly, 

The  spokes  went  whirling  round, 


THE    BEGGAR.  103 

A  spool  within  the  flyers, 

The  silver  threads  retain ; 
Till  full,  up  to  the  wires, 

Then  off,  I  reeled  my  skein. 

The  wheel  with  music  ringing, 

Oft  made  my  heart  rejoice ; 
I  spent  the  day  in  singing, 

With  sweet  and  cheerful  voice. 


THE  BEGGAR. 


Mother,  there  is  a  beggar, 
Beside  our  mansion  door ; 

His  face  by  Time  is  wrinkled, 
His  head  is  silvered  o'er. 

His  tattered  clothes  declare  him, 
Of  home  and  friends  bereft ; 

Oh !  may  I  kindly  bear  him, 
The  fragments  we  have  left  % 

Nay,  son,  but  bid  him  enter, 
Methinks  I  can  discern 

The  hand  than  once  did  shelter 
Your  mother  from  the  storm. 


104 


THE    BEGGAR. 


T  was  when  the  snow  blew  wildly, 
Across  the  Highland  moor, 

A  lone,  lost  child,  so  kindly 
He  took  to  his  own  door. 

"  Yes,  Lady,"  said  he,  weeping, 
"  I  then  had  home  and  friends ; 

But  now  my  heart  is  breaking, 
My  form  with  sorrow  bends. 

'•  Misfortunes  came  upon  me, 
My  children  all  are  gone  ! 

And  cruel  hands  have  wronged  me, 
And  grasped  my  happy  home. 

"  Now  I  "ve  no  roof  to  shelter 
My  locks  so  white  and  thin : 

And  no  fond  loving  daughter, 
To  keep  my  garments  clean/' 

Come  in  sir.  said  she,  smiling, 
Though  tears  were  tailing  fast; 

God  sent  you  to  my  dwelling, 
I  '11  screen  you  from  the  blast. 


You  saved  a  helpless  orphan, 
Once  on  the  trackless  moor  ; 

She  lives  !  thank  heaven,  to  welcome 
The  shepherd  to  her  door. 


THE    TWO    GIVERS.  105 


THE    TWO    GIVERS. 

Beside  the  the  Treasury  of  God, 
A  man  in  rich  apparel  stood  ; 
Watched  by  the  gazing  multitude. 

Each  generous  heart,  with  rapture  glowed, 
As  he  the  bounteous  gifts  bestowed, 
And  to  the  world  his  offering  showed. 

Rewarded  thus,  't  was  all  he  sought, 
For  this,  the  shining  dust  he  brought ; 
Nor  for  God's  glory  cared  he  aught. 

Next,  smiling  through  her  tears,  there  came 
A  feeble  child,  with  trembling  frame, 
And  laid  a  penny  by  the  same. 

God  did  her  holy  gift  accept, 

And  angels  there,  a  record  kept 

Of  this,  and  tears  the  child  had  wept. 

Perfumed  with  many  prayers  that  day, 
Her  precious  gift  she  bore  away, 
To  guide  some  soul  in  wisdom's  way. 

God  blessed  the  child,  and  owned  her  mite, 

'Twas  all  she  had,  and  with  delight 

She  bowed  again  in  prayer  that  night. 
5* 


106  THE  WESTERN  EMIGRANT. 

THE  WESTERN"  EMIGRANT. 

Our  own  dear  friends,  with  others, 
Have  sought  the  western  wilds, 

Our  sisters  and  our  brothers, 

With  whom  we  've  wept  and  smiled. 

Imagination  views  them, 
As  dawns  God's  holy  day, 

Turn  towards  their  father's  dwelling 
And  wipe  their  tears  away. 

Bright  visions  round  are  stealing, 

And  Zion's  courts  arise, 
The  Sabbath  bell  is  pealing 

Up  through  the  vaulted  skies. 

And  old  familiar  faces, 

With  whom  they  did  repair 

To  God's  most  holy  temple, 

Are  gathering  round  them  there. 

They  hear  their  happy  voices, 
And  list  the  joyful  strain, 

But  as  their  heart  rejoices 
They  wipe  their  tears  again. 

For  lo,  the  spell  is  broken 
That  bound  them  to  the  spot, 

And  each  familiar  token 

That  mem'ry  round  had  brought. 


MY    BOUQUET.  107 


But  still  the  blessed  promise, 
Bears  up  the  feinting  heart, 

God's  holy  word  shall  triumph, 
And  light  divine  impart. 

For  He  hath  said,  the  desert, 
Shall  yet  his  glory  share, 

And  Sharon's  rose  shall  flourish 
And  shed  its  fragrance  there. 


MY   BOUQUET. 

WRITTEN    ON    RECEIVING    A   BASKET    OF    BEAUTIFUL    FLOWERS. 

How  very  kind  to  think  of  one 

Who  loves  the  faintest  gleam 
Of  nature,  when  the  smiling  sun 

Makes  all  so  radiant  seem. 

To  think,  and  then  with  friendship's  hand, 

So  tastefully  display 
The  fairy  buds,  which  closely  stand 

In  this,  my  sweet  bouquet. 

I  trace  their  beauties  and  admire, 

Each  tint  of  varied  hue ; 
And  wonder  if  the  eye  could  tire 

With  charms  like  these  in  view, 


108  M*    BOQUET. 

And  though  their  fragrance  others  move 
With  such  exquisite  power  ; 

I  wonder  which  they  most  can  love, 
The  perfume  or  the  flower. 

Delicious  joys  !  I  once  claimed  both, 

And  revelled  like  the  bee 
Amidst  the  bowers  when  Summer's  birth 

Such  sweetness  brought  to  me. 


But  sad  disease,  this  sense  acute 

Has  blunted — nay,  destroyed. 
Since  then,  the  breath  of  flowers  is  mute, 

Their  fragrance  unenjoyed. 

But  oh  !  I  love  my  queenly  rose, 

I  '11  on  my  bosom  place 
This,  with  the  humblest  gem  that  blows, 

And  still  God's  goodness  trace. 

He  might  have  made  this  world  less  bright, 
And  clothed  the  forest  bowers  : 

And  spread  the  meadows  with  delight, 
Nor  spangled  them  with  flowers. 

But  yet,  in  kindness,  to  the  heart 

In  every  clime,  they  're  given 
To  elevate — and  thus  impart 

To  us,  the  breath  of  Heaven. 


ON    THE    ARRIVAL    OF    THE    HAWTHORN.  109 

ON  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  THE  HAWTHORN  IN 

AUSTRALIA. 

On  far  Australia's  golden  strand, 

A  crowd  of  men  have  gathered  ; 
They  seem  a  hardy  stalwart  band, 
Who  stormy  seas  have  weathered ; 
But  what  is  this  that  bids  them  come  ? 
'T  is  a  flow'ring  shrub  from  youthful  home. 

It  is  the  Hawthorn  kindly  brought, 

From  England's  fragrant  bowers  ; 
Thus  eagerly  these  miners  sought, 
To  view  their  native  flowers  ; 
They  w^et  the  tree  with  many  tears, 
This  early  friend  of  other  years. 

It  seemed  endowed  with  happy  speech, 

And  with  unsullied  beauty  ; 
Recalling  scenes  beyond  their  reach, 
Of  home,  of  love  and  duty  ; 
When  'neath  the  hawthorn's  fragrant  shade, 
Perchance  some  holy  vow  was  made. 

So  vividly  its  beauty  rose, 

That  Scotia  stood  before  them  ; 
All  radiant  still  the  vision  grows, 
The  light  of  home  is  o'er  them ; 
They  stand  again  with  happy  friends, 
And  grasp  the  hand  that  love  extends. 


110  CHRIST    WALKETH    ON    THE    SEA. 

Delicious  moments!  then  they  knelt, 

And  still  with  throbbing  bosom  ; 
While  sueh  exquisite  joy  they  felt, 
They  blessed  the  precious  blossom, 
That  could  such  happy  days  restore 
And  place  them  on  old  England's  shore. 


CHRIST  WALKETH  OX  THE  SEA. 

"  But  He  saith  unto  them,  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid." — John,  vi.  26. 

It  was  a  gloomy  night.     Fearful  and  loud 
The  hoarse  winds  blew,  and  oft  the  rolling  waves 
Swept  o'er  the  little  ship  that,  tossing,  rode 
Upon  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

The  "  third  watch"  long  had  passed,  and  still  the  twelve 
Alone  were  toiling  for  the  distant  shore  ; 
And  oft,  perchance,  they  wished  that  He  were  there 
Whose  presence  would  a  solace  be,  e'en  on 
The  foaming  billows  of  the  stormy  lake. 
And  yet,  when  on  the  dark  and  boisterous  deep 
Their  blessed  Lord  they  saw,  with  steps  as  firm 
As  though  the  rolling  waves  were  adamant, 
They  feared,  until  those  gracious  words,  in  love, 
They  heard — those  words  which  even  now,  when  sin's 
Still  rougher  billows  swell,  can  calm  the  breast — 
"  T  is  I,  be  not  afraid  !" 


TO  THE  LONE,  UNLOVED  IN  CALIFORNIA.      Ill 

TO  THE  LONE,  UNLOVED  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

Ah,  do  not  thus  of  all  complain, 

Earth  has  its  shade  and  sun  ; — 
And  you  may  yet  in  future  claim, 

A  heart  that  loves  but  one. 

Oh !  is  there  not  some  angel  fair, 

In  that  far  distant  clime  ; 
Whose  bosom  may  your  sorrows  share  1 — 

Haste  then  and  make  her  thine. 

'Tis  gentle  woman's  loving  smile, 

That  makes  life's  path  more  bright ; — 

Her  voice  can  soothe,  if  cares  the  while 
Cast  round  a  with'ring  blight, 

In  vain  misfortune's  darkling  ray, 

May  seek  to  change  her  love  ; 
'T  is  hers  to  bow  and  meekly  pray, 

For  guidance  from  above. 

E'en  when  no  light  shines  on  the  road, 

By  faith  she  '11  struggle  on ; 
And  nobly  bear  the  pressing  load, 

And  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 

Then  do  not  wish  so  soon  to  sleep, 

In  death's  cold,  damp  embrace  ; 
But  nerve  thy  heart,  and  boldly  keep 

Eor  sympathy  a  place. 


112  THE    BETTER    LAND. 

Tis  true  there  are  some  iceberg  souls, 
Who  court  the  northern  blast ; 

And  if  a  warmer  billow  rolls, 
They  madly  let  it  pass. 

With  such  expect  no  happiness  ; — 
But  lay  thy  oft  chilled  heart 

Where  love  will  melt  it  with  a  kiss, 
And  dry  the  tears  that  start. 

There  are  some  smiling  spots  on  earth, 
Though  hedged  by  sorrow  in, 

Enjoy  the  one, — profit  by  both, — 
Till  brighter  climes  you  win. 


THE  BETTER  LAXD. 

A  cry  is  heard  from  a  distant  strand — 

From  California's  shore ; 
The  cry  is  this — that  all  the  land 

Is  full  of  precious  ore ; 
Millions  they  say  would  fail  to  count, 
Or  tell  to  us  the  vast  amount. 

This  cry  has  thrilled  through  many  a  heart. 

And  grasping  minds  have  sold 
Their  earthly  store,  that  they  may  start 

For  the  place  of  shining  gold  ; 


THE    BETTER    LAND.  113 

Where  sunny  streams  rush  through  the  land, 
Washing  the  banks  of  golden  sand. 

But  I  have  heard  of  a  brighter  spot, 
Where  riches  are  that  perish  not, 
And  who  will  for  this  land  prepare 
And  gather  fadeless  treasures  there  1 

No  doubts  obscure  that  azure  sky, 
Nor  tears  bedim  the  sparkling  eye ; 
No  want  of  bread — nor  fear  of  pain 
Ere  reached  this  healthful,  happy  plain. 

No  toilsome  day — nor  anxious  care 
Within  those  holy  mansions  are, — 
No  blighting  sin,  with  with'ring  breath, 
Ere  carried  there  the  sting  of  death. 

This  city  doth  with  gates  abound, 
And  each  a  solid  pearl  is  found ; 
Its  walls  are  jasper  clear  and  bright, 
Reflecting  rays  of  holy  light. 

The  streets  are  fairer  than  the  sun, 

In  all  his  splendor  of  high  noon  ; 

They  're  paved  with  pure  transparent  gold, 

And  yet  not  dazzling  to  behold. 

Jewels  and  gems  of  brighter  die 

Than  ere  were  seen  by  mortal  eye, 

Each  shining  diadem  bestud, 

And  all  are  "  Kings  and  Priests  to  God." 


114  ELIJAH    ON    MOUNT    HOREB. 

I'd  rather  know  I  have  a  claim 
To  those  bright  realms  above, 

Where  saints  in  harmony  shall  reign 
And  feast  in  Jesu's  love  ; 

Than  stand  possessed  of  all  earth's  store, 
And  roll  in  wealth  till  time  is  o'er. 
December,  1848. 


ELIJAH  ON  MOUNT  HOREB. 

Obedient  to  the  heavenly  word 
The  Prophet  went  to  meet  the  Lord, 
He  stood  on  Horeb's  rocky  hill, 
To  hear  the  Great  Jehovah's  will. 
Nor  feared  he  when  the  hoarse  wind  sped 
In  thunder  round  his  hoary  head, 
Nor  yet  when  Horeb's  ponderous  rock 
Lay  scattered  by  the  earthquake's  shock, 
Nor  did  he  start  when  to  his  gaze, 
The  mount  appeared,  a  fiery  blaze. 
But  when  so  sweet,  so  soft  and  clear 
The  "  still  small  voice  "  fell  on  his  ear, 
The  entrance  of  the  cave  he  sought 
And  'round  his  face  his  mantle  brought, 
Though  conscious  'twas  his  Father's  voice 
He  felt  to  tremble  and  rejoice, 
For  well  he  knew  that  flesh  and  blood 
Could  never  look  on  Israel's  God. 


AN    INCIDENT.  115 

AN  INCIDENT  ON  BOARD  THE  STEAMER  EMPIRE. 

Twilight  had  gently  given 

Place  to  the  shades  of  night ; 
And  friends  had  said  at  even, 

"  Good-bye  "  till  morning  light. 

The  twinkling  stars  above  them, 

Shed  down  their  feeble  ray  ; 
And  through  the  Hudson's  bosom, 

The  Empire  ploughed  her  way. 

No  fears  broke  on  the  vision, 

Of  those  in  sweet  repose  ; 
Till  came  the  dread  collision — 

Then  each,  in  terror  rose. 

The  scene  was  most  appalling — 

Friends  for  each  other  cried  ! 
And  parents  loud  were  calling, 

Their  children  to  their  side. 

Two  lovely  babes  were  sleeping, — 

Their  frantic  mothers  start, 
And  each,  half  blind  with  weeping, 

Clasped  one  upon  her  heart. 

And  as  the  noble  Steamer, 

Sunk  gently  'neath  the  wave, 
The  hand  of  mercy  bore  them 

Up  from  the  watery  grave. 


116  JESUS    WEPT. 

One,  while  a  kiss  bestowing 
Upon  her  rescued  child, 

And  tears  of  love  were  flowing, 
Shrieked  out  in  accents  wild — 

"  'Tis  not  my  own  dear  baby 
I  struggled  so  to  keep, 

But  yours  !  oh  happy  lady, 
And  I  am  left  to  weep." 

"  And  this,"  replied  the  other, 
"  I  cannot  call  my  own — 

Perhaps  you  are  its  mother, 
But  ah  !  its  life  has  flown." 

"  It  is  my  death-chilled  blossom, 
You  rescued  from  the  wave  ; 

And  I,  upon  my  bosom, 

Your  darling  babe  did  save." 


JESUS  WEPT. 

TEARS    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Ah  !  those  were  precious  tears  the  Saviour  shed, 
When  with  the  mourning  sisters  he  approached 
The  new-made  grave  of  him  they  dearly  loved, 
And  by  his  mighty  power  wanned  into  life 
And  clothed  with  vigor  fresh  a  brother's  clay. 


JESUS    WEPT.  117 

TEARS    OF    COMPASSION. 

Again  on  Olivet  we  see  him  sit 
And  weep,  as,  looking  o'er  those  sacred  walls, 
He  views  the  desolation  soon  to  come, 
And  sees  his  father's  house  in  ruins  lie. 
In  mournful  accents  now  methinks  I  hear 
The  Saviour's  gracious  voice,  as  thus  he  cried : 
"  Thy  children,  oh  !  Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem ! 
How  oft  would  I  have  gathered  to  my  arms, 
But  ye  would  not." 

TEARS    OF    AGONY. 

Next  in  Gethsemane  the  voice  of  prayer 

Is  wafted  on  the  midnight  breeze ;  and  there, 

Prostrate  upon  the  cold,  damp  ground,  lies  one 

In  agony  and  tears.     Tears,  too,  wrung  from 

The  inmost  fountain  of  a  Saviour's  soul, 

As  thus  he  nerved  him  for  the  bitter  cup 

He,  in  the  sinner's  stead,  must  freely  drink. 

Oh !  those  were  precious  tears  ;  so  holy,  pure, 

And  good,  that  angels  stood  amazed  to  see, 

And  consolation  to  the  holy  sufferer  brought. 

As  thus  I  view  the  spotless  Lamb  of  God 

O'erwhelm'd  and  crush'd  beneath  the  weight  of  sin, 

My  sinful  heart  in  deep  contrition  melts. 

And  yet  those  tears  alone  could  never  cleanse 

The  guilty  stains  that  cleave  unto  my  soul. 

From  Gethsamene,  then  to  Calvary 

With  joy  I  turn,  and  seek  that  fountain  there 


118  MY    NATIVE    LAND. 

"Which  flowed  from  out  his  wounded,  bleeding  side. 
Oh !  bles>ed  Saviour,  wash  my  soul  in  this, 
Thine  own  atoning,  precious,  saving  blood, 
That  I,  with  all  the  ransomed  throng,  may  sing 
The  wondrous  power  of  Jesus'  dying  love, 
While  countless  ages  speed  their  onward  flight-. 


MY  NATIVE  LAND. 

Perhaps  no  one  ever  visited  the  place  of  his  nativity,  after  an  absence  of 
even  a  few  years,  wi'.hout  feeling  a  mingled  sensation  of  joy  and  sorrow.  Al- 
though the  te  ir  may  insensibly  steal  down  the  cheek,  as  the  mind  reverts  to 
the  thousand  associations  that  twine  around  the  haunts  of  pleasure;  still  there 
is  an  indescribable  joy  that  fills  the  heart— a  something  that  pen  cannot  tell, 
neither  pencil  portray.  While  looking  abroad  upon  the  beautiful  and  romantic 
scenery  of  my  early  home,  during  a  recent  visit,  I  penned  the  following  lines. 
Never,  perhaps,  in  my  life  did  [  covet  a  port's  gift  so  much  as  I  did  while 
feasting  my  eyes  upon  this  almost  enchanting  spot.  It  is  a  valley,  nearly  sur- 
rounded by  mountains  and  high  hills.  The  one  on  the  east  is  called  the  Wil- 
liamstown  Mountain.  Through  this  vale  meanders  a  small  rivulet,  one  of  the 
tributaries  of  the  Hoosac,  whose  waters  mingle  with  the  noble  Hudson. 

Once  more  I  view  with  fond  delight, 

The  sunny  spot  of  childish  glee  ; 
The  verdant  hills — their  lofty  height, 

And  hear  the  brook's  sweet  melody. 

I  stand  and  gaze,  while  down  my  cheeks 

In  silence  steals  the  tear ; 
For  every  haunt  still  loudly  speaks 

Of  bliss  with  kindred  dear. 


THE  FAREWELL  FROM  THE  COTTAGE  DOOR.     119 

I  listen  to  the  warbling  birds. 

And  think  those  lovely  strains 
Tht*  same  that  in  these  groves  I  heard, 

When  first  I  learned  their  names. 

And  on  yon  graceful  mountain  top, 

Thar  broad  full  moon  I  Ve  seen ; 
And  thought,  if  there,  1  'd  take  it  up 

And  roll  it  o'er  the  green. 

I  call  to  mind  the  merry  shout, 

And  almost  think  I  stand 
With  gladsome  hearts,  to  range  about 

My  sweet — my  native  land. 

But  oh  !  I  find  not  one  who  shared 

With  me  my  infant  toys, 
Or  for  my  little  pleasures  cared, 

Is  here,  to  tell  those  joys. 


THE  FAREWELL  FROM  THE  COTTAGE  DOOPv. 

My  easy  chair,  dear  wife,  once  more, 
Place  thou  beside  our  cottage  door, 
Where  oft  we  Ve  sat  and  talked  of  heaven, 
And  joys  which  God  to  us  had  given, 
"Till  evening  with  its  mellow  light, 
Sunk  gently  in  the  arms  of  night. 


120     THE  FAREWELL  FROM  THE  COTTAGE  DOOR. 

Ah  !  yes,  't  is  sweef  fco  look  once  more, 
From  this  my  much  loved  cottage  door ; 
Our  favorite  bower  neglected  stands, 
It  needs  the  labor  of  our  hands  ; 
And  every  drooping  flower  I  see, 
Is  but  an  emblem  now  of  me. 

With  my  dear  wife  I  never  more, 
Shall  look  from  our  loved  cottage  door. 
A  last  farewell  I  came  to  take, 
Of  hill  and  dale,  and  yon  sweet  lake — 
The  earth,  the  sky,  the  fragrant  air, 
And  all  our  God  has  made  so  fair. 

The  setting  sun  with  joy  before, 
I've  watched  from  this,  our  cottage  door, 
But  now  a  holy  awe  I  feel, 
And  down  my  cheeks  the  tear-drops  steal- 
There  's  something  in  a  last  farewell, 
My  trembling  lips  refuse  to  tell. 

But  oft,  dear  wife,  our  children  four, 
Shall  gather  'round  this  cottage  door. 
Then  tell  them,  though  their  father's  dead, 
For  them  he  often  wept  and  prayed, 
That  Christ,  his  blessed  Lord,  would  be 
The  orphan's  friend,  the  widow's  plea. 

And  now,  farewell !  thou  sun  afar, 

And  you,  pale  moon,  and  twinkling  star ! 


A    DREAM    OF    HEAVEN.  121 

Farewell,  sweet  evening's  twilight  hour  ! 
And  thou,  my  long-neglected  bower ! 
Farewell,  loved  earth  ! — a  mist  creeps  o'er 
The  light  around  our  cottage  door. 

Farewell,  sweet  spot !  thy  joys  were  dear, 
But  now  I  '11  wipe  the  last  sad  tear. — 
Come  lay  me  down,  hope's  waving  plumes, 
The  radiant  light  of  heaven  illumes, — 
Blest  mansions,  built  on  holy  ground, 
Beyond  the  starry  sky  are  found ; 
There  we  shall  brighter  scenes  explore, 
Than  these  from  our  loved  cottage  door. 


A  DREAM  OF  HEAVEN". 

Come,  sister  !  sit  beside  me, 
And  raise  the  window  high, 

The  breeze  is  now  denied  me, 
That  sweeps  so  gently  by. 

There,  that  is  quite  refreshing, 
It  cools  my  fev'rish  brow ; 

Come,  dear,  and  share  the  blessing 
I  am  partaking  now. 
6 


122  A    DREAM    OF    HEAVEN'. 

Sister,  the  God  that  loves  us, 
His  mansion  lias  afar, 

Beyond  that  blue  above  us, 
Or  yonder  twinkling  star. 

I  've  seen  His  blissful  dwelling, 
Dear  sister,  long  ago  ; 

When  sleep  was  o'er  me  stealing, 
Just  at  the  morning's  glow. 

As  if  on  downy  pinions, 

I  soared  up  through  the  sky ; 

Until  the  Hill  of  Zion, 

Burst  on  my  raptured  eye. 

The  pearly  gates  were  open, 
And,  oh !  how  close  did  stand, 

In  phalanx,  all  unbroken, 
The  happy  angel  band. 

On  either  side  extending, 
As  far  as  eye  could  trace, 

They  stood  as  if  to  welcome 
A  sinner,  saved  by  grace. 

The  golden  bells  were  pealing, 
And,  oh  !  each  holy  chime 

New  glory  seemed  revealing 
O'er  all  that  heavenly  clime. 


A   DREAM    OF    HEAVEN.  123 

I  neared  those  shining  portals, 

Expecting  soon  to  be 
Escorted  by  the  angels, 

My  blessed  Lord  to  see. 

That  land  of  bliss  and  glory, 

So  peaceful,  calm  and  bright, 
In  grandeur  lay  before  me, 

Most  beautiful  to  sight. 

My  soul  was  filled  with  rapture, 

I  thought  my  conflicts  o'er, 
And  I  should  range  forever 

That  love-illumined  shore. 

The  thought  was  so  transporting, 

I  leaped  to  gain  the  prize ; — 
The  effort  broke  my  slumber, 

And  brought  me  from  the  skies. 

But,  oh !  the  vault  of  heaven, 

Could  not  retain  the  sound 
Those  golden  bells  had  given, 

It  floated  still  around. 

Long  had  it  power  to  soothe  me, 

When  guilt  my  soul  oppressed ; 
I  felt  that  God  still  loved  me, 

And  I  should  gain  that  rest. 


124  the  emigrant's  plea. 

Sister,  I'm  faint  and  weary, 

Come,  lay  me  down  once  more ; 

All,  all  is  dark  and  dreary, 
Save  that  immortal  shore. 

No  sin,  no  sorrow  ever, 

Sheds  there  one  darkling  ray  ; 

But  Christ,  my  blessed  Saviour, 
Shall  wipe  all  tears  away. 


THE  EMIGRANT'S  PLEA. 

A  distant  cry  is  pealing, 
From  broad  Pacific's  shore ; 

O'er  rocky  peaks  't  is  stealing, 
Where  mountain  torrents  roar. 

Where  prairie  flowers  are  spreading 
Their  fragrance  all  around  ; 

And  man  is  lightly  treading 
That  sweet  enchanted  ground. 

Yes,  through  the  noble  forest 
That  skirts  the  azure  sky  ; 

The  breeze  a  message  beareth, 
Oh !  list  the  earnest  cry. 


125 


"  Lord  give  us  back  our  Sabbaths, 
Those  blessed  happy  days  ; 

When  we  with  friends  could  worship, 
And  heavenly  anthems  raise. 

Oh  !  send  the  precious  gospel 
Our  fainting  souls  to  cheer  ; 

And  make  the  desert  blossom, 
And  goodly  fruit  appear. 

'Till  we  with  joy  may  gather 
Within  Thy  Courts  of  Praise ; 

And  sing  the  glad  Hosannahs 
We  sang  in  early  days." 


H 0 tt t i ■  i    §z$nxtmtnt. 


TO  MY  DAUGHTER,  ON  PRESENTING  HER  WITH 
A  BIBLE. 

My  child,  in  this  blest  volume 
God's  love  and  glory  shine ; 

Oh!  search  its  sacred  pages, 
And  make  its  precepts  thine. 

Seek  now,  this  blessed  Saviour, 
Make  him  your  early  friend  ; 

And  by  his  grace  He  '11  guide  you, 
And  all  your  steps  attend. 

Then  should  thy  parents  leave  you, 
And  earthly  friends  depart ; 

These  promises  will  cheer  you, 
And  raise  your  sinking  heart. 

Come,  trust  this  blessed  Saviour, 

My  only  daughter  dear ; 
He  '11  be  your  friend  forever, 

And  wipe  your  every  tear. 


J 28       THAT  HAND  NEVER  STURCK  A  BLOW. 

Anrl  in  liis  shining  mansions, 
May  you  your  parents  meel  ; 

With  all  your  darling  brothers, 
Around  his  mercy  scat. 


THAT  HAND  NEVER  STRUCK  A  BLOW. 

Once  more  do  let  me  gently  hold 
That  hand  in  mine,  dear  mother, — 

Alas,  't  is  cold !  yes,  icy-cold, 

For  death  has  chilled  my  brother. 

This  little  hand  ne'er  struck  one  blow, 
'T  was  ever  raised  to  cheer  me  ; — 

I  love  to  think  that  this  was  so, 
And  that  he  still  is  near  me. 

Such  kindness  breathed  in  every  word, 

Soft  as  an  angers  whisper ; 
And  oft  my  listening  ear  has  heard, 

"  I  love  my  dearest  sister/' 

I  know  he  's  dead,  for  once  that  cheek 
Was  fresh  as  Spring's  sweet  flowers ; 

And  those  pale  lips  no  more  can  speak, 
When  pressed  in  love  to  ours. 


LITTLE    ANN    AND    THE    PIGEON.  129 

Mother,  he  's  in  that  "  happy  land," 

Far,  far  away  in  heaven ; 
The  fairest  of  that  shining  band, 

Though  grief  our  hearts  has  riven. 

Once  more  this  little  hand  I'll  kiss, 

Then  lay  it  near  the  other  ; 
And  now  farewell ; — we  '11  meet  in  bliss, 

My  precious  darling  brother. 


LITTLE  ANN  AND  THE  PIGEON. 

A  little  girl  with  curious  eye, 

And  ever  restless  mind  ; 
Was  led  each  day  to  search  and  try, 

Some  hidden  thing  to  find. 

No  nook  or  place  howe'er  concealed, 

If  she  the  key  could  get ; 
Its  contents  soon  would  be  revealed, 

Or  she  would  tease  and  fret. 

One  warm,  but  pleasant  summer  day, 

She  sought  the  garden  gate  ; 

And  resting  there,  her  brother  lay, 

And  near  a  basket  sat. 
6* 


130 


THE  ORPHAN  BOY. 


With  cautious  step  she  ventured  there 

And  off  the  cover  drew  ; 
When  lo !  a  pigeon,  white  and  fair, 

From  out  the  basket  flew. 

Long  had  she  wished  her  brother  dear, 
This  milk-white  dove  to  bring  ; 

And  now  she  saw  with  many  a  tear, 
Her  treasure  on  the  wing. 

Had  Ann  less  curious  been  to  know, 
And  kindly  spoke  to  Fred ; 

With  pleasure  she  her  bird  might  show, 
And  share  with  it  her  bread. 


THE  ORPHAN  BOY. 

At  twilight  hour,  in  a  churchyard  lone, 

Beside  a  mound  of  clay. 
A  boy  oft  knelt,  by  a  cold  white  stone, 
"Where  his  mother  lay.  for  she  alone 

Had  taught  him  how  to  pray. 

I  saw.  as  I  neared  that  sacred  spot, 

His  cheeks  were  ashy  pole ; 
Nor  knew  till  then,  how  sad  is  the  lot 
Of  an  orphan  boy.  in  a  stranger's  cot, 
And  wept  to  hear  his  tale. 


THE    ORPHAN    BOY.  131 

-  so  long  mid  lowrring  sk 
rth  on  her  br<: 
.  said  he.  she  will  ne?  i  ria  . 
Though  she  said  she  would,  then  closed  her 
And  made  her  last  request, 

;.  may  I  rise  to  gr- 
Said  she.  when  growing  cold  ; 
••  Una  darling  child,  at  thy  blessed  feet, 

this  shall  cease  to  beat, 
Around  the  Shepher<; 

She  laid  her  hand  on  my  little  head, 

T  was  damp  and  cold  with  death : 
I  heard  no  more,  for  the  stranger's  tread 
Was  light  and  gentle  around  her  bed, 

Till  ceased  her  laboring  breath. 

To-day  some  budding  flowers  I  found. 

That  tell  me  Spring  has  come  ; 
Sir.  will  she.  when  warmer  grows  the  ground, 
Rise  up  from  this  cold  and  dreary  mound, 
I  take  me  to  her  home. 

I  Ef  :ke  of  the  resurrection  day. 

"When  all  the  good  would  ris 
And  angels  come  and  bear  them  away 
To  spend  ;s  an  endless  day, 

Bevond  the  starrv  skie-. 


132  LITTLE    SUSA. 

On  my  besom  the  .  sweet  child. 

And  said  the  day  is  near. 
When  I  .shall  go  from  this  gloomy  wild. — 
His  and  he  sweetly  smiled, 

And  wiped  away  the  tear. 


LITTLE  SUSA. 


She  sat  upon  the  marble  step 

Of  a  stately  mansion  door  ; 
Her  basket  on  her  arm  she  kept, 
And  bitter  tears  she  freely  wept, 

As  from  her  heart's  deep  core. 

Her  scanty  garments  close  she  drew 

Around  her  shiv'ring  frame  ; 
While  thick  and  fast  the  snow-flakes  flew, 
Her  sobbings  deep  and  deeper  grew 
As  she  breathed  her  simple  name. 

"  Oh  !  Susa  cannot  cease  to  cry. 

She  's  got  no  bread  to-day  : 
Mother  is  sick,  and  baby  Tl  die, 
I  told  them  so,  but  know  not  why, 

They  turned  so  quick  away. 

"  But  mother  said,  she  would  implore, 
Our  Heavenly  Father's  aid  ; 


a  brother's  influence.  133 

So  I  will  rise  and  ring  once  more, 

Perhaps  they  did  not  hear  before, 

How  much  we  needed  bread." 

"  Touch  not  that  silver  bell  again, 

A  miser's  heart  is  there ;" 
A  stranger  said,  "  I  've  heard  your  strain, 
Your  pleading  has  not  been  in  vain, 

God  heard  your  mother's  prayer. 

"  Come,  haste  with  me  your  basket,  I 

Will  fill  with  bread  and  meat ; 
For  He,  who  hears  the  raven's  cry, 
Has  heard  the  widow's  pleading  sigh, 

And  sends  her  food  to  eat." 


A  BROTHER'S  ISTFLUEXCE. 

I  shall  not  say  my  prayers  to-night, 
Said  a  pouting  little  child ; 

To  romp  and  play  I  'm  sure  is  right, 
But  father  thinks  I  'm  wild. 

I  know  that  he  would  fret  as  bad, 

If  grandpa  sternly  said  ; 
My  son  your  noise  will  make  me  mad, 

So  hush  and  go  to  bed. 


134  a  brother's  influence. 

A  milder  voice  then  said  with  grief, 
"  'T  is  right  we  should  obey  ; 

Come,  brother,  kneel,  't  will  give  relief, 
So  let  us  meekly  pray." 

And  gently  round  his  neck  he  threw 

His  coaxing  little  arms  ; 
And  said,  "  I  dare  not  sleep  with  you, 

Your  temper,  me  alarms. 

"  And  God  is  angry,  too,  you  know, 

When  thus  you  disobey  ; 
Come,  brother,  kneel  here  with  me  do, 

And  to  the  Saviour  pray. 

"  But  if  you  will  not  seek  with  me, 
[Forgiveness  ere  you  sleep  ; 

1  Our  Father '  I  will  say  for  thee, 
That  he  your  soul  may  keep." 

And  sweetly  there  with  tearful  face, 

He  asked  God  to  impart, 
In  love,  the  spirit's  quick'ning  grace, 

To  cleanse  his  brother's  heart. 

That  prayer  was  heard,  and  soon  a  voice, 

As  gentle  as  the  other, 
Arose,  and  angels  did  rejoice 

O'er  that  repenting  brother. 


THE    LITTLE    MATCH    BOY.  135 

THE  LITTLE  MATCH  BOY. 

It  was  December,  cold  and  drear, 

And  stormy  was  the  weather, 
When  all  around,  both  far  and  near, 

The  snow-flakes  clung  together. 

With  garments  thin,  and  bare  red  feet 

A  boy,  both  sad  and  weary, 
Passed  on  through  many  a  winding  street, 

'Till  darkness  veiled  him,  nearly. 

"  Matches,  matches !"  he  loud  did  cry, 

Nor  yet  had  sold  he  any  ; 
For  none  appeared  that  day  to  buy, 

Or  give  him  one  red  penny. 

To  none  he  told  his  bitter  woe, 

For  he  had  now  no  mother ; 
She  slept  beneath  the  pure  white  snow, 

Beside  his  little  brother. 

His  sister  all  alone  did  stay, 

Or  watch  her  drunken  father, 
While  thus  their  bread  from  day  to  day, 

Did  he  with  matches  gather. 

Benumbed  and  sad  he  sat  him  down, 

Drawing  his  cold  feet  under ; 
He  feared  his  father's  angry  frown, 

But  more  his  sister's  hunger. 


136 


THE    BROTHERS. 


He  said,  "  A  dreary  world  is  this, 
1  "in  glad  there  is  another;" 

And  then  he  thought  he  felt  a  kiss, 
From  his  dear  ansel  mother. 


And  bending  o'er  him  stood  a  form, 
With  kind  and  manly  feeling ; 

Whose  heart  with  sympathy  was  warm, 
For  tear-drops  down  were  stealing. 

He  knew  that  boy,  so  marble  cold, 
And  bade  him  not  to  sorrow ; 

Placed  in  his  hand  some  shining  gold, 
And  told  him,  "  On  the  morrow, 

"  Sister  of  plenty  shall  partake ; 

And  you,  her  noble  brother, 
Shall  have  a  home  for  her  own  sake — 

Your  dear  departed  mother." 


THE  BROTHERS. 

Two  little  boys  were  once  at  play, 
W^hen  each,  the  other  cheated ; 

And  angry  words  they  both  did  say, 
Which  all  their  plans  defeated. 


THE    BROTHERS.  137 

But  angry  words  could  not  suffice 
For  both,  their  fists  were  framing  ; 

And  soon  to  hit  each  other's  eyes 
Their  heavy  blows  were  aiming. 

E'en  this  was  not  enough,  they  cried 

And  stamped,  until  each  token, 
Their  mother's  weary  hands  supplied, 

Lay  scattered  round  and  broken. 

I  too,  was  young,  and  watched  those  boys, 

With  eyes  brim  full  of  sorrow  ; 
I  knew  that  they  would  want  those  toys 

Should  they  behold  the  morrow. 

And  then  their  mother,  "  easy  soul," 

I  pitied  her,  poor  creature ; 
For  she  no  power  had  to  control, 

Or  smooth  one  pouting  feature. 

Thus  unrestrained,  with  passions  vile 

These  boys  to  men  were  growing  ; 
But  oft  their  mother's  tears,  the  while, 

In  bitter  streams  were  flowing. 

Too  kind  to  err,  that  widowed  heart, 

The  twig,  unbent  did  cherish ; 
And  manhood's  prime  no  hopes  impart-, 

That  sin's  deep  root  will  perish. 


138  CHILDHOOD. 


CHILDHOOD. 


0  childhood's  hours  of  thee  I  sing  ! 
Sweet  days  forever  past, 

When  morning's  sun  could  pleasure  bring, 
Though  soon  by  clouds  o'ercast. 

Those  clouds  could  not  o'ercast  my  mind ; 

It  was  the  home  of  peace, 
When  my  light  heart  still  hoped  to  find 

Each  day  with  joy  increase. 

1  ranged  the  grove — the  verdant  fields, 

When  flushed  with  childish  joy, 

To  cull  the  sweets  that  Nature  yields, 

Which  time  would  soon  destroy. 

Blithe  as  the  flitting  butterfly, 

That  nestles  on  each  flower. 
I  saw  the  summer  day  pass  by, 

And  welcom'd  every  hour. 

Ah,  pleasant  look  yon  murmuring  rills, 

Where  I  so  oft  have  strayed, 
And  dried  clay-cups  on  sunny  hills, 

And  spread  them  in  the  shade. 

Who  can  reflect  on  by-gone  hours, 

And  not  exclaim  with  me: 
"  The  sweetest  joys — the  fairest  flowers — 

Did  I  in  childhood  see  ?M 


THE    STOLEN   BOY.  139 

Conversant  now  with  pain  and  grief 

For  many  years  I  've  been, 
But  oh !  there  is  a  sweet  relief 

Beyond  this  world  of  sin. 

Then  why  look  back  with  this  regret, 

Would  I  those  hours  recall  ? 
Nay — though  my  sun  at  noon  should  set, 

I  would  resign  "  my  all ;" 

And  seek  in  heaven  for  fadeless  youth, — 

For  joys  which  never  end, 
Where  Hope's  sweet  words  will  all  be  truth, 

And  God  my  changeless  Friend. 


THE  STOLEN  BOY. 


Peace  long  had  hovered  round  the  home 

Of  Afric's  noble  son  ; 
Dispelling  care  and  frightful  gloom, 

Which  other  hearts  had  wrung. 

The  only  pledge — a  happy  child 
Clasped  in  his  mother's  arms  ; 

Told  o'er  his  tales,  and  sweetly  smil'd, 
Proud  of  his  native  charms. 


140  THE    STOLEN    BOY. 

Then  bounding  forth,  he  waved  his  hand, 
And  sought  the  cooling  shade — 

Where  met  a  jovial  little  band, 
And  'neath  the  palm  trees  play'd. 

How  proudly  beat  each  little  heart ! 

A  tiny  hut  they  reared  ; 
And,  ranged  in  simple  native  art, 

Each  shining  shell  appeared. 

But  lo  !  another  scene  behold, 

A  mother's  form  is  near : 
Alone  she  stands  with  grief  untold, — 

The  white  man's  track  is  here ! 

With  tearful  eyes  one  glance  she  threw, 

Far  o'er  the  refluent  wave, 
When,  lo !  her  boy  appeared  in  view, 

And  loudly  cries,  "  O,  save !" 

But  look  !  another  scene  appears, — 

Beside  a  dark  ship  lies 
A  native  boat,  and  pearly  tears 

Stream  from  a  father's  eyes. 

Then  raising  in  his  trembling  hand, 

His  gold,  and  jewels  rare, 
"  Take,  white  man,  all,  and  loose  those  bands, 

My  child  from  slavery  spare." 


141 


They  took  his  wealth — and  chained  him  too, 

Close  by  his  prattling  boy  ; 
"  My  father,  Oh !  I  '11  cling  to  you," 

He  said,  and  wept  for  joy. 

On  FREEDOM'S  proud  and  boasted  soil, 

Next  moves  a  sickly  band — 
They  drag  their  chains,  they  sweat,  they  toil — 

Slaves  on  Columbia's  land. 


THE   LITTLE   PENITENT'S   BEQUEST   TO   HER 
DYING  MOTHER. 

A  mother  lay  upon  her  dying  bed ; 
Nature  exhausted,  and  so  near  worn  out, 
She  seemed  just  on  the  verge  of  Jordan's  stream, 
The  vital  spark  alone  remained  to  tell 
That  she  had  yet  to  cross  its  rolling  tide. 
The  parting  kiss — the  last  farewell  to  all 
That  day,  in  tears  and  love,  were  kindly  given. 
And  oft  her  youngest  child,  a  lively  girl, 
By  her  request,  sung  o'er  those  words,  so  sweet 
To  ev'ry  dying  saint,  who  looks  for  bliss 
Beyond  the  boundaries  of  this  narrow  world, 
"  We  there  shall  meet — shall  meet  to  part  no  more. 
"  Dear  mother,"  said  the  sobbing  child,  "  I  Tl  try — 
I  '11  try  to  meet  you  there." 


142     DEATH  OF  A  SABBATH  SCHOOL  SCHOLAR. 

Weary  and  worn  with  grief,  that  child  sought  rest ; 

But  soon  the  thought  came  to  her  troubled  heart, 

That  unkind  words  or  disobedient  acts 

Of  her's  had  caused  that  mother  grief  and  pain. 

"  I  '11  go  to  her  again,"  she  cried,  "  and  there 

I  '11  pray  that  she  once  more — once  more  may  speak, 

And  speak  forgiveness  to  her  wayward  child." 

A  moment  more,  and  she,  with  anxious  gaze, 

Over  that  wasted  form  was  bent,  praying 

Intent,  "  Mother,  will  you  your  child  forgive  V' 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  love  ;"  and  when  these  precious  words 

Tell  on  her  ears,  printing  a  parting  kiss 

Upon  her  mother's  death-chilled  lips,  she  turned 

Away  in  peace. 


DEATH  OF  A  SABBATH  SCHOOL  SCHOLAR. 

She  lay  like  some  sweet  op'ning  rose, 
Torn  from  its  parent  tree, — 

Or,  as  if  sunk  in  sweet  repose, 
As  calm  as  sleep  could  be. 

No  mother  smooth'd  her  dying  bed, 

No  father's  kiss  was  given ; 
She  long  had  slumber'd  with  the  dead, 

And  he  just  entered  heaven. 


143 


A  sister  watched  life's  ebbing  sand, 
And  friends  stood  kindly  by — 

Who  strove  with  sympathizing  hand 
Affliction's  tears  to  dry. 

No  fear  of  death  her  bosom  wrung, 
She  smil'd  with  calm  delight, 

And  said,  "  Lord  Jesus,  quickly  come," 
Then  upward  took  her  flight. 

Now  with  the  bright  angelic  band, 
Where  saints  their  joys  unfold, 

She  strikes  with  an  immortal  hand, 
The  glittering  harp  of  gold. 


THE  ORPHAN'S  LAMENT. 

A    DIALOGUE    BETWEEN    GEORGE    AND    CHARLES. 

Qeo.      Good  morning,  Charles,  your  smiling  face 

Bespeaks  a  life  of  joy  ! 
I  would  such  happiness  embrace, 

But  I  'm  an  orphan  boy. 
I  often  hear  your  mother  call, 

And  bid  her  darling  come ; 
And  then  my  tears  of  sorrow  fall, 

For  I  'm  a  lonely  one. 


144 


And  when  she  folds  you  in  her  arms, 

And  gives  the  tender  kiss, 
I  feel  a  stranger  to  the  charms 

Of  such  enraptured  bliss. 
With  gentle  hand  she  smooths  your  bed, 

And  makes  it  snug  and  warm  ; 
Then  gently  lays  your  weary  head, 

And  bids  you  fear  no  harm. 

And  oft  thy  parents  plead  for  thee, 

Before  God's  holy  throne ; 
But  ah  !  no  prayer  ascends  for  me, 

I  bow  and  weep  alone. 
The  music  of  a  parent's  voice 

Ne'er  falls  upon  my  ear  ; 
Their  smiles  ne'er  make  my  heart  rejoice, 

Nor  chase  away  the  tear. 

Chas.    I  know  I  Ve  parents  kind  and  good, 

Who  make  me  clothes  and  give  me  food ; 
And  many  comforts  they  bestow, 

But,  George,  this  may  not  long  be  so. 
I,  too,  may  stand  alone  like  you — 

My  parents  gone,  my  friends  but  few ; 
But  God  has  said,  when  parents  die, 

He  will  regard  the  orphan's  cry. 

And  He  will  be  your  Father,  too, 

And  lead  you  all  life's  journey  through. 


. 


THE    LITTLE    BOY    WHO    LOVED    HIS    BIBLE.  145 

Then  if  you  trust  his  saving  love, 
He  '11  take  you  up  to  heaven  above ; 

There,  dearest  George,  on  that  blest  shore, 
God's  holy  children  part  no  more — 

But  scenes  of  glory  ever  roll 

To  feast  the  eyes  and  charm  the  soul. 

Geo.      Well,  Charles,  I  '11  trust  this  God  of  love, 

Nor  longer  here  repine ; 
Then  I  shall  have  a  friend  above, 

To  heal  these  woes  of  mine. 
Father  in  heaven,  help  me  to  say 

"  Thy  holy  will  be  done  ;" 
Though  dark  my  path  and  rough  my  way, 

Let  mercy  lead  me  on. 


THE  LITTLE  BOY  WHO  LOVED  HIS  BIBLE. 

Although  I  am  a  little  boy 

But  seven  summers  old ; 
Yet  twice  I  've  read  my  Bible  through. 

And  love  it  more  than  gold. 

"  In  the  beginning,"  there  I  find, 

The  heavens  and  earth  were  made — 

And  our  first  parents  good  and  kind, 
'Till  God  they  disobeyed. 


146  THE    LITTLE    BOV    WHO    LOVED    HIS    BIBLE, 

Then  all  by  sin's  dread  curse  was  given 
To  sorrow,  death  and  pain  — 

And  the  first  saint  that  entered  heaven 
Was  by  a  brother  slain. 

And  soon  the  earth,  which  God  had  made 

So  lovely  and  so  good, 
Was  filled  with  sins  of  every  grade, 

And  deluged  with  a  flood. 

But  Noah,  being  warned  of  God, 

An  ark  did  then  prepare, 
And  sailed  upon  that  mighty  flood, 

When  all  were  in  despair. 

Next  faithful  Abraham  we  trace — 

Isaac  with  J  acob  stood, 
The  fathers  of  the  4:  chosen  race" — 

Then  Moses  with  his  rod. 

But  then,  there  was  one  lovely  boy 
Whose  life  his  brothers  sought ; 

Because  he  was  his  father's  joy, 
And  wore  a  pretty  coat. 

To  strangers  they  in  envy  sold 
This  child,  in  spite  of  tears — 

But  God  was  with  him,  we  are  told, 
In  Egypt,  many  years. 


THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  147 

But  oh  !  the  half  I  cannot  tell, 


For  wonders  great  were  wrought ; 
Thousands  by  bears  and  serpents  fell, 
And  some  to  heaven  were  caught. 

Thus  on  four  thousand  years  had  rolled, 

When  angels  did  proclaim 
That  He,  by  prophets  long  foretold, 

Was  born  in  Bethlehem. 

This  blessed  Saviour  came  to  save 
Mankind  from  endless  death  ; 

And  on  the  cross  he  freely  gave, 
For  us,  His  dying  breath. 

And  now,  to  all  who  will  believe, 

Salvation  free  is  given  ; 
May  all  this  precious  book  receive, 

And  learn  the  way  to  heaven. 


THE  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD. 

[The  following  lines  were  suggested  by  a  conversation  between  a  little  child 
and  her  mother.  It  was  commenced  by  the  child,  who  doubted  the  existence 
of  a  God,  because  she  could  not  see  him  with  her  natural  eyes.] 

Child.       Ma  !  is  the  Lord  we  worship  here, 

A  real  God,  or  is  he  not  ? 
Mother.     He  is,  my  love,  he  's  everywhere, 

Sees  every  act,  knows  every  thought. 


148  THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

Child.       He  is  not  here  !     That  cannot  be, 
Or  I  should  see  his  lovely  face. 

Mother.     Yes,  child,  he  fills  immensity, 

His  Spirit  dwells  in  every  place. 

Child.       Is  God  a  Holy  Spirit  then, 

And  does  he  sit  in  heaven  above  1 

Mother.     Yes,  and  beholds  the  sons  of  men, 
Sinners,  yet  objects  of  his  love. 

Child.       How  can  he  love  us,  if  we  sin, 
And  thus  abuse  his  grace  ? 

Mother.     For  Jesus'  sake,  who  died  to  win 
Us,  to  his  Father's  kind  embrace. 

Child.       But  shall  we  sin,  if  we  ascend 

To  dwell  with  God  in  yonder  heaven  ? 

Mother.     No,  child ;  if  Jesus  is  our  friend  ; 

There,  perfect  joy  to  all  is  given. 


Child.  Well,  I  should  like  to  live  with  those 
Who  ne'er  abuse  that  Saviour  dear ; 

Mother.  So  shall  you,  if  his  ways  you  choose, 
And  early  learn  his  name  to  fear. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BROOM.  149 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BROOM. 

[In  a  letter  from  Rev.  B.  W.  Chidlaw,  a  Missionary  in  the  West  for  the 
American  Sunday-School  Union,  to  the  Sunday-School  children  of  the  East,  he 
relates  the  following  incident : — "  A  little  boy  came  two  miles  through  swamps 
and  mud,  witli  a  splint-broom  of  his  own  manufacture,  to  exchange  it  for  a 
Sunday-School  book.  The  exchange  wjis  made,  and  the  boy  became  a  possess- 
or of  a  little  volume,  which  to  him  was  an  invaluable  treasure.  This  book  cost 
him  hours  of  labor  ;  he  went  to  the  woods,  cut  a  hickory  sapling,  sat  down  for 
hours  at  his  log-cabin  fii  e,  making  the  broom  ;  then  he  walked  four  miles,  and 
all  this  toil  to  secure  one  book."  The  following  lines  were  suggested  on  read- 
ing the  above  incident :] 

Upon  a  rude  log-cabin  floor, 

A  western  boy  sat  down, 
And  viewed  a  hick'ry  sapling  o'er, 

Then  peeled  it  round  and  round ; 
Till  in  his  skilful  hands  it  grew, 
A  nice  splint-broom  so  white  and  new. 

And  then  two  dreary  miles  he  went, 
Through  swamps  of  bog  and  clay, 

His  thoughts  were  on  some  object  bent, 
For  thus  he  seemed  to  say : — 

"  That  man  with  books  I  know  is  blest, 

For  loving  children  of  the  West. 

"  Perhaps  my  broom  wili  purchase  one, 

If  not,  I  must  despair  ; 
For  I  have  not  the  smallest  sum, 

And  father  's  none  to  spare. 
I'll  tell  him  how  much  pains  I  took,  ■ 
And  how  1  've  toiled  for  one  nice  book." 


150  THE  BOY  AND  THE  BROOM. 

And  such  a  plea,  who  could  withstand? 

A  volume  soon  was  given, 
And  may  it  lead  him  to  the  Lamb, 

That  once  came  down  from  heaven, 
To  suffer,  bleed  and  die  below, 
That  children  may  to  glory  go. 

With  smiling  face,  while  tears  did  start, 
He  clasped  the  precious  boon, 

And  laid  it  on  his  thankful  heart, 
Then  sought  his  cabin  room, 

Where  list:ning  ones  with  happy  look, 

Did  gather  round  to  hear  that  book. 

No  pennies  had  this  boy  to  spend, 

For  candy,  cake  or  toy  ; 
And  yet  that  book  to  him  may  send 

A  gleam  of  heavenly  joy, 
Surpassing  all  ok?-  children's  cash 
Can  purchase  of  such  baneful  trash. 

Now  where  "s  the  boy  who  will  lay  by 

His  pennies  for  one  year, 
These  far-off  children  to  supply 

With  treasures  of  such  cheer, 
And  take  his  pay  in  tears  of  love, 
To  sparkle  in  his  crown  above  ? 


151 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL'S  DREAM, 

Mother,  last  night  before  me, 

Arose,  so  very  near, 
The  pearly  gates  of  glory, 

I  could  the  inmates  hear. 

And  as  the  saints  were  passing, 
Clad  in  their  "  bright  array," 

A  soft,  sweet  voice  was  asking, 
"  Will  sister  come  to-day  '?" 

In  breathless  haste  I  nearer 
Those  glorious  portals  drew  ; 

And  then  in  accents  clearer, 
That  voice  I  heard  and  knew. 

It  was  my  sister  Mary, 

Beside  an  angel  fair ; 
She  looked  like  some  sweet  fairy, 

With  roses  in  her  hair. 

A  jewelled  crown  was  sparkling, 
Upon  her  glorious  brow ; 

And  songs  that  she  was  harping, 
Methinks  I  hear  them  now. 

Again  with  loved  ones  shining, 
A  raptured  seraph  passed ; 

She  looked,  and  said,  so  smiling, 
"  Has  sister  come  at  last  V1 


152 


THE    LOST    SON. 

Mother,  I  longed  to  fold  her 
"W  it  liln  these  arms  of  mine; 

But  soon  an  angel  told  her, 
I  had  not  reached  that  clime. 

I  woke,  but  oh,  how  dreary, 
This  dull,  sad  earth  did  seem  ; 

I  longed  to  be  with  Mary, 
Were  it  but  in  a  dream. 


THE  LOST  SOX. 

The  following  lines  were  written  alter  witnessing  the  death  of  a  little  boy, 
the  only  son  of  doting  parents,  and  a  scholar  in  the  Sabbath  school  where  I 
wras  first  engaged  as  a  teacher.  Truly  "  his  end  was  peace,"  and  the  language 
of  his  heart  breathed  the  most  perfect  resignation.  Although  he  had  attended 
the  Sabbath  school  with  great  reluctance,  on  his  dying  bed  he  thanked  his 
mother  for  having  sent  him,  "  for  there  (said  he)  I  learned  about  the  Saviour!" 

I  saw  him  on  his  dying  bed,  while  pain, 

Excruciating  pain  did  rack  his  feeble 

Frame.     And  O  !  my  head  as  waters  seemed 

When  from  his  quivering  lips  these  words  did 

Fall  in  deepest  penitence  :     "  Pray  for  me. 

O!  who  will  pray  for  me!"'     We  knelt  around 

His  bed,  and  prayers  were  offered  ;  prayers,  too,  that 

The  ear  of  Him,  who  for  guilty  rebels 

Intercedes,  did  reach.     But  who  can  paint. 

Or  can  describe  the  solemn  scene  !     All  wept, 

All  save  him  who  silent  lav,  with  closed 


THE    LOST    SOX.  153 

Eyes,  and  heart  uplifted  to  the  Lamb  of  God  ! 

Sweet  child !     His  years  were  few.  but  still  his  heart 

He  felt  had  need  of  Jesus'  precious  blood. 

And  't  was  applied.     A  heavenly  calmness 

Rested  on  his  visage,  pale;  and  his  breast 

With  sweet  composure  filled,     Then,  O  !  with  what 

Sedateness  did  he  speak  of  his  approaching 

Exit.     But  still  the  tender  parents  watched 

With  weeping  eyes,  from  morn  'till  night,  the  fever'd 

Lips5<  the  trembling  pulse — anxious  to  catch  some 

Glimmering  hope  of  his  returning  health. 

But  all  in  vain :  naught  could  allay  the  pangs 

Of  the  disease.     Not  herb  medicinal, 

Nor  care  of  parents  dear,  could  save  the  darling 

Child.     Its  home  was  in  another  clime ; 

And  soon  the  cold  messenger  arrived,  and 

Snatch' d  the  tender  bud  from  the  parents  fond  embrace. 

His  spirit  fled  !     And  by  angelic  guards 

On  balmy  wings,  to  the  empyrean 

Shore  it  wTas  conveyed,  to  dwell  with  God. 

In  my  native  town,  and  within  a  few  rods  of  the  meeting-house  where  he 
used  to  attend  school,  upon  the  sunny  side  of  a  hill,  he  lies  buried,  and  a  mar- 
ble slab  with  the  following  Epitaph  engraved  upon  it,  (which  I  wrote  at  the 
time,)  stands  at  the  head  of  his  grave  : 

EPITAPH. 

Farewell,  dear  child,  a  long  farewell ! 

No  more  shall  we  behold  thy  charms ; 
On  Zion's  hill  thy  spirit  dwells, 

Encircled  in  thy  Saviour's  arms. 

7* 


154  COME,    TALK    TO    ME    OF    JESUS. 

COME,  TALK  TO  ME  OF  JE8UB. 

'•  Come,  talk  to  me  of  Jesus," 

A  feeble  child  once  said, 
As  on  his  mother's  bosom 

He  laid  his  aching  head. 

"  Come,  talk  to  me  of  Jesus  ; 

Let  sister  bring  my  book, 
And  while  you  tell  the  story, 

I  Tl  on  the  picture  look." 

"  See,  darling,  that  is  Jesus 

Who  stands  with  out-stretched  hand  ; 
And  those  so  close  around  him, 

The  happy  infant  band. 

"  He  laid  his  hand  upon  them, 
And  each  a  blessing  shared  ; 

Then  told  them  that  a  kingdom 
For  such  had  been  prepared." 

•■  Mother,  that  same  dear  Saviour 

Is  bidding  me  to  come  ; 
There  's  room  upon  his  bosom, 

In  that  bright,  happy  home. 

"Then  farewell,  my  dear  mother, 

I  see  his  shining  throne ; 
And  farewell,  dearest  sisters, 

Mv  Jesus  bids  me  come." 


LITTLE   KATT.  155 


LITTLE  KATY. 


'"  Hot  corn  !  hot  corn  !  here's  nice  hot  corn !" 
Was  on  the  night-air  swelling, — 

A  half-clad  child,  with  features  wan, 
Her  last  two  ears  was  selling. 

"  Hot  corn !  hot  corn !  kind  sir,  take  all," 

She  said,  *;  the  night  is  dreary, 
And  mother  waits  in  yonder  hall, 

To  beat  me,  though  I  'm  weary. 

"  I  'm  starving,  sir,  but  dare  not  touch 
One  kernel,  though  I  'm  dying ; 

My  mother,  O,  I  loved  her  much, 
When  brighter  days  were  flying  ! 

"  My  father,  too,  yes,  he  was  kind — 

But  he  has  gone  before  me ; 
Good  Mr.  Pease  says  I  shall  find 

A  better  home  in  glory." 

"  Hot  corn  !  hot  corn !"  next  eve  again 
Was  with  the  thunder  blended  ; 

Though  lightnings  flashed,  and  drenching  rain 
In  torrents  fast  descended. 

But  soon  her  heavy  task  was  o'er, 

She  swooned  that  night  while  crying — 

"  Hot  corn  !  hot  corn !"  as  oft  before. 
Though  feeble,  faint  and  dying. 


156 


LITTLE    KATV, 


Maddened,  her  frantic  mother  raved, 

When  to  her  door  they  brought  her; 
She  swore  thai  soon  would  have, 


Or  boat  her  lazy  daughter. 


Nights  passed — I  heard  no  more  that  cry  ; 

But  still  my  throbbing  bosom 
Sent  up  a  prayer,  I  knew  not  why. 

For  this  frail  earthly  blossom. 

I  sought  the  street  and  sauntered  on, 
'Till  that  good  man  did  meet  me ; 
■  He  led  me  to  her  dying  room, 

Where  words  like  these  did  greet  me  : 

"  O,  mother  !  will  the  stranger  come  1 
That  cake  was  good  he  gave  us  ; 

I  gave  my  darling  sister  some — 
That  night  from  death  it  saved  us !" 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  child,"  I  said,  u  he  's  here  !" 
She  threw  her  arms  around  me  ; 

"  O,  't  is  the  stranger's  voice  I  hear, 
Dear  mother,  he  has  found  me ! 


"  He  sympathized  with  me,"  she  said, 
"  And  spoke  to  me  so  kindly  ; 

He  dried  my  tears  and  gave  me  bread, 
When  others  passed  me  blindly. 


LITTLE    ALIE.  157 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  and  with  that  word 

Her  dying  kiss  was  given ; 
A  faint  "good-bye"  was  all  we  heard, 

And  Katy  was  in  heaven  ! 


LITTLE  ALIE. 


"  To-morrow  will  come,"  said  a  sweet  rosy  child  ; 
"  It  soon  will  be  here,"  she  lisped  as  she  smiled ; 
"  And  then  it  is  spring,  dear  mother  says  so, 
And  I  shall  be  happy,  so  happy,  I  know." 

But  why  does  dear  Alie  so  wish  for  the  spring  % 
Does  she  think  she  will  hear  the  sweet  robin  sing  % 
And  does  she  expect,  with  roses  so  fair, 
To  bind  up  her  curls  of  bright  golden  hair  % 

Not  that — no,  not  that ;  she  said,  "  It  is  spring, 
And  then  I  shall  go  where  the  good  people  sing, 
And  talk  of  the  Saviour — I  do  love  hirn  so — 
To-morrow  with  mother  to  church  I  shall  go." 

That  eve,  ere  the  sun  had  set  in  the  west, 
This  sweet  child  was  laid  in  her  cradle  to  rest ; 
But  ere  the  next  morn  had  illumined  the  sky, 
Her  spirit  had  gone  to  her  Saviour  on  high. 


158  LITTLE    BELL. 

Yes,  Alie  had  found  an  unchanging  spring, 
And  joined  with  the  seraphs  God's  praises  to  sing; 
And  bounding  with  rapture  o'er  heaven's  bright  sphere, 
She  sings,  ';  I  am  happy,  far  happier  here." 


LITTLE  BELL; 

OR,    THE    NEW    YEAR's    DRESS. 

The  following  Hues  were  suggested  by  the  fact,  that  a  little  rosy-cheeked  girl, 
about  ten  years  of  age  and  an  only  daughter,  had  been  saving  her  pennies  for 
a  long  time  in  order  to  purchase  herself  a  New  Year's  dress. 

Just  before  Christmas  -he  was  seized  with  that  dreadful  disease  the  croup, 
which  seemed  from  the  first  to  baffle  the  skill  of  the  physicians  in  attendance, 
and  soon  terminated  in  death.  When  the  last  struggle  was  ov<  r.  the  weeping 
mother  brought  the  purse  of  her  departed  child  in  the  room,  and  emptied  its 
contents  on  the  table, saying,  '•  Dear  Bell,  1  promised  you  this  money  should 
buy  you  a  New  Year's  dress,  and  [  will  keep  my  word,  and  purchase  with  it 
the  last  dress  you  will  ever  need.''  Accordingly  she  paid  it  out  for  the  linen 
dress  and  shroud  appropriate  for  the  occasion. 

"Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow,  for  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  may 
bring  forth. 

"  The  holidays,  the  holidays," 

Said  laughing  little  Bell, — 
"  The  happy  cheers,  and  greeting  lays, 

I  ever  love  them  well ; 
And  then  the  nuts,  the  cakes,  and  toys, 
Come  in  to  heighten  still  my  joys. 

"  I  wonder  if  sweet  cousin  Bess 
Will  New  Year's  spend  with  me ; 


LITTLE    BELL.  159 

I  love  her  dimpled  cheek  to  press. 

She  is  so  kind  and  free. 
How  cheerily  will  pass  the  day  # 

If  cousin  Bess  can  with  me  play. 

"  And  here's  my  purse,"  continued  Bell : 

"  Tis  almost  filled  with  chink, 
To  buy  my  dress ;  dear  mother,  tell, 

Shall  it  be  blue  or  pink  1 
Oh,  shall  I  not  on  New  Year's  shine 
In  that  new  dress,  so  nice  and  fine  !" 

The  merry  Christmas  came,  but  where 

Was  little  rosy  Bell  ? 
A  tiny  cot  was  spread,  and  there 

Her  ghastly  features  tell 
That  soon  her  struggles  will  be  o'er, 
And  little  Bell  will  be  no  more. 

As  Parian  marble  soon  she  lay, 

All  white  and  cold  in  death, — 
This  lovely  one,  who  yesterday 

Was  sporting  with  each  breath ; 
Her  auburn  curls,  still  tinged  with  gold, 
Lay  on  that  bosom  now  so  cold. 

A  budding  rose  was  on  her  breast, 

Wet  with  her  mother's  tears  ; 
But,  little  Bell,  thy  New  Year's  dress 

Nor  blue  nor  pink  appears. 


160  THE    LITTLE    COLPORTEUR. 

Thy  treasured  store,  once  thy  delight, 
Purchased  a  robe  of  snowy  white, 
To  clothe  thee  for  the  silent  tomb 
Where  New  Year's  greetings  never  come. 


THE  LITTLE  COLPORTEUR. 

"  Please,  mother,  will  you  let  me  be 

A  real  colporteur, 
And  to  some  needy  children  flee  ? 

I  can,  I  'm  very  sure. 
Mother,  't  would  please  me  to  impart 
A  gleam  of  joy  to  one  poor  heart. 

"  First,  mother,  let  me  play,  you're  poor, 

And  in  a  hovel  rode  ; 
With  little  ones  upon  the  floor, 

Ragged,  and  scant  of  food. 
And  then  you'W  feel  and  know  the  joy 
A  book  would  give  from  such  a  boy." 

So  saying,  from  her  side  he  sped, 

And  with  a  smiling  look, 
He  passed  around  with  silent  tread, 

And  gathered  every  book. 
With  cap  and  cloak,  his  load  well  strapped, 
Then  sought  the  door,  and  gently  rapped. 


THE    LITTLE    CORPORTEUR.  161 

"  Lady,"  said  he,  "  I  've  treasures  rare, 

Volumes  of  nameless  worth  ; 
They  tell  of  Him  who  once  did  bear 

Our  sins,  when  here  on  earth. 
Please  purchase  one  :  your  children  dear 
These  stories  would  with  rapture  hear. 

"  They  're  good  as  preaching,  too,  you  '11  find, 

And  if  no  pastor's  voice 
You  have  amid  these  lonely  wilds, 

Your  heart  will  oft  rejoice, 
As  through  these  pages  you  shall  trace 
His  love,  who  died  to  save  our  race." 

"  But  stop,"  said  she  ;  ';  suppose  I  'm  poor, 

And  money  none  have  got  V 
"  Why,  then,"  said  he,  "  look  at  my  store, 

For  such,  a  book  I  've  got." 
She  took  the  gift,  and  thanked  with  joy 
The  colporteur — her  own  dear  boy. 

"  Now,  mother,"  said  he,  ';  we  can  spare 
These  books,  we  've  read  them  o'er ; 

And  to  some  alley  I  '11  repair, 
And  give  or  sell  my  store ; 

And  you  may  on  my  pleasing  task 

A  blessing  from  the  Saviour  ask." 

"  They  shall  be  thine,  my  darling  son," 
The  weeping  mother  said  ; 


162  THE    SILENT    BEGGAR. 

"  And  when  in  love  thy  work  is  done, 

If  but  one  soul  is  led 
To  seek  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain. 

Thy  mission  shall  not  be  in  vain.'" 

With  many  thanks  he  hasted  out. 

And  sought  each  humble  B] 
Distributing  his  gifts  about, 

And  many  a  blessing  got. 
Both  old  and  young  beheld  with  joy 
The  colporteur,  the  mission  boy. 


THE  SILEXT  BEGGAR. 

Each  day  upon  my  window  sill, 

A  little  beggar  sits ; 
'Till  I.  his  hungry  stomach  fill, 

And  then  away  he  flits. 

I  know  not  that  he  ever  weeps, 
And  yet  his  eyes  are  red : 

For  I  have  seen  them  as  he  peeps 
At  me  and  bows  his  head. 

His  little  feet  are  always  bare, 
And  thev  are  cold  I  know : 


THE    SILENT    BEGGAR.  163 

If  I,  some  stockings  had  to  spare, 
I  'd  screen  them  from  the  snow. 

He  never  asked  me  for  a  crum, 

Nor  says  that  he  is  cold  ; 
And  yet  through  storms  and  rain  he  '11  come, 

For  hunger  makes  him  bold. 

One  day  a  nice  warm  toast  I  made, 
'Gainst  Libby  came  from  school ; 

And  closely  in  the  dish  't  was  laid, 
Well  covered,  lest  it  cool. 

'T  was  bitter  cold,  but  soon  appeared, 

The  beggar  on  the  spot ; 
I  know  as  he  the  window  neared, 

He  wanted  what  I  'd  got. 

I  told  him  this  was  dainty  fare, 

He  bowed  and  kept  his  seat ; 
So  from  the  dish  I  took  his  share, 

And  laughed  to  see  him  eat. 

When  Libby  came,  I  told  her  soon, 

I  knew  her  generous  heart ; 
She  said,  "  poor  Pigeon,  let  him  come, 

I  '11  gladly  give  him  part." 


164 


THE    SABBATH    SCHOOL    BOY    AND    HIS    BIBLE. 


THE  SABBATH  SCHOOL  BOY  AND  HIS  BIBLE. 

"  Dear  father,"  said  a  lovely  boy, 

With  sweet  and  pensive  look, 
As  rising  from  the  nursery  floor, 

He  closed  his  favorite  book, 
And  snugly  'gainst  his  little  breast, 
With  tiny  hands  the  Bible  prest, — 

"  Say.  father,  when  my  body  dies, 

And  sleeps  within  the  tomb, 
And  my  freed  spirit  mounts  the  skies, 

To  find  with  Jesus  room, — 
Shall  I  not  there,  on  that  bright  shore, 
This  sacred  volume  have  once  more  f 

"  My  child."  the  father  quick  replies, 
"  This  book  God's  will  declares  ; 

It  points  unto  the  glorious  prize 
Winch  every  victor  bears; 

It  tells  us  how  the  conquest  "s  won, 

By  love  to  God  through  Christ  his  Son. 

"  And  when  the  Crown  of  Life  is  given, 

Our  warfare  is  complete, 
And  every  wish  and  thought  in  heaven, 

Unbounded  love  will  meet. 
And  like  a  swelling,  mighty  flood, 
Exulting  rise  in  praise  to  God : 


165 


"  Eternal  pages  will  unfold 

New  beauties  every  hour  ; 
And  our  immortal  eves  behold 

God's  wisdom,  might,  and  power, 
E'er  shining  through  the  wondrous  plan — 
Redeeming  love  to  fallen  man." 

All  wrapt  in  solemn  thought,  awhile 

The  little  one  did  stand, — 
Then  with  a  sweet  but  placid  smile 

He  raised  his  soft  white  hand, 
And  from  his  bosom  gently  took 

His  precious  treasure,  God's  own  book. 

Then  hardly  conscious  of  his  voice, 
He  said, — and  wiped  a  tear, — 

"  I  'd  love  with  angels  to  rejoice, — 
My  Jesus  to  revere — 

But  can't  I  sometimes  steal  away, 

And  read  how  David  loved  to  pray  V 


THE  CHILD'S  DREAM. 

That  was  a  happy  dream,  mother, 

From  which  I  just  awoke, 
I  'm  sure  it  was  some  heavenly  gleam 

That  on  my  vision  broke. 


166  the  child's  dream. 

I  saw  that  dreadful  stream,  mother, 
Whose  dark  cold  waters  roar, 

And  on  a  shining  golden  beam, 
I  passed  its  surface  o'er. 

I  saw  those  pearly  gates,  mother, 
Through  which  the  holy  pass, 

And  there  were  pure  transparent  streets 
Like  gold  or  solid  glass. 

And  there  waere  pleasant  fields,  mother, 

Bright  with  celestial  light. 
And  sparkling  flowers  perfumed  with  love, 

Eedundant  with  delight. 

All  o'er  that  blissful  plain,  mother, 
Sweet  music  breathed  around, 

In  such  melodious,  heavenly  strains, 
I  bowed  to  catch  the  sound. 

I  saw  those  darling  ones,  mother. 

You  once  did  call  your  own, 
In  garments  brighter  than  the  sun, 

Most  happy  near  the  throne. 

They  said  that  I  ere  long,  mother. 
On  that  blest  peaceful  shore, 

Would  join  their  sweet,  immortal  song, 
Where  sorrow  is  no  more. 


THE    WORKS    OF   GOD.  167 

Then  shall  I  happy  be,  mother, 

For  Christ  my  Lord  is  there, 
Who  early  showed  His  love  to  me, 

And  heard  my  lisping  prayer. 


THE  WORKS  OF  GOD. 

God  made  the  sun  to  shine  by  day, 
The  moon  and  stars  at  night ; 

The  little  lambs  to  skip  and  play, 
And  flowers  to  charm  the  sight. 

God  made  the  birds  with  silken  wings, 

That  soar  up  in  the  sky ; 
He  tuned  their  throats  his  praise  to  sing. 

And  taught  them  how  to  fly. 

And  when  beside  a  lonely  brook 

Good  old  Elijah  stood, 
The  little  ravens  sought  that  nook, 

And  daily  brought  him  food. 

God  shut  the  mouths  of  lions,  when 

The  holy  Daniel  lay 
Down  in  that  dark  and  dismal  den, 

For  there  he  still  could  pray. 


168  CHRIST    RIDING    INTO    JERUSALEM. 

And  when  the  Hebrew  children  were 
Cast  in  the  burning  flame, 

One  like  the  Son  of  God  was  there, 
To  bless  and  rescue  them. 

Make  this  great  God  your  early  friend, 
Give  him  your  infant  love, 

And  peace  shall  all  your  steps  attend, 
To  perfect  bliss  above. 


CHRIST  BIDING  INTO  JERUSALEM. 

From  Olivet  a  cry  is  heard, 

And  multitudes  appear  ; 
'With  love  and  joy  each  heart  seems  stirred, 

Such  shoutings  rend  the  air. 

They  cast  their  garments  in  the  way, 

And  palms  they  freely  bring  ; 
"  Hosannah  "  is  their  joyful  lay, 

u  To  David's  Son  and  King!" 

Thus  on,  the  lowly  Saviour  came, 

With  the  adoring  throng. — 
Jerusalem  has  caught  the  strain, 

And  children  join  the  song. 


THE    TORN    DRESS.  169 

Hosannas  from  their  infant  lips 

The  gracious  Saviour  hears  ; 
And  now  above  enthroned,  he  sits 

To  list  their  humble  prayers. 

As  willing  now  is  He  to  bless 

And  give  the  healing  hand, 
As  when  He  to  his  bosom  pressed 

And  owned  the  infant  band. 

Oh,  come  then  to  this  Holy  One! 

Your  hearts  an  off 'ring  bring  ; 
Hosannas  then  to  David's  Son, 

In  sweeter  strains  you  '11  sing. 


THE  TORN  DRESS. 

"  Once  there  was  "  a  little  creature, 
Bright  as  morn  in  sunny  May, 

Beautiful  in  form  and  feature, 
Happy  all  the  livelong  day. 

Far  away  from  this,  in  childhood, 
Oft  I  saw  her  smiling  face, 

In  the  forest  glade  and  wildwood, 
Romping  round  from  place  to  place. 

8 


170  THE    TORK   DRESS. 

She  no  Sabbath-bell  had  ever 

Heard  amidst  those  mountains  wild, 

And  the  Sunday -School  had  never 
On  those  rustic  children  smiled. 

So  one  Sabbath-day,  while  straying 
Through  the  fields  and  meadows  fair, 

With  some  little  children  playing, 
She  her  Sunday  dress  did  tear. 

Now  she  look'd  and  felt  quite  badly, 
For  she  thought  her  mother  dear 

Would  reprove  her,  and  she  sadly 
Turn'd  away  to  hide  a  tear. 

While  she  sat,  the  rent  before  her, 
Pondering  o'er  what  she  should  do, 

All  at  once  the  thought  came  o'er  her, 
God  in  heaven  can  wonders  do. 

Then  she  closed  her  eyes  so  gently, 
And  the  tears  strove  to  repress, 

While  she  whisper'd  out  so  softly 

"  O,  dear  Lord,  please  mend  my  dress  ?" 

What  a  prayer !     But  she  had  never 
Once  been  told  of  Jesus'  love, 

Nor  that  sinners  here  are  ever 
Grieving  God,  who  lives  above* 


THE    MOTHERLESS. 

Could  she  then,  like  you,  have  enter'd 
God's  own  house  on  his  blest  day, 

Ah  !  methinks  she  ne'er  had  ventured 
Thus  to  pass  its  hours  away. 

But  she  lived  to  learn  of  Jesus, 
And  in  after  years  did  stand, 

With  the  little  ones  around  her, 

Teaching  them  her  God's  command. 


171 


THE  MOTHERLESS. 

A  mother's  name,  a  mother's  name. 

Ah  !  yes,  't  is  ever  sweet ; 
With  joy  I  still  the  sound  retain, 
As  I  the  word  repeat ; 
And  sometimes  in  the  lonely  glen, 
'T  is  gently  echoed  back  again ; 
As  if  her  spirit  hovered  near 
To  soothe  or  check  the  rising  tear. 

My  mother's  voice,  my  mother's  voice, 

A  charm  was  in  its  sound  ; 
Its  music  made  my  heart  rejoice, 
And  gladness  spread  around. 
She  taught  my  infant  lips  to  pray, 
And  ask  for  grace  from  day  to  day ; 


172  THE    MOTHERLESS. 

Ah !  sweet  domestic  joy,  in  this 
Is  felt  thy  dearest,  noblest  bliss. 

My  mother's  hand,  I  've  felt  it  oft 

Upon  my  infant  brow  ; 
Its  gentle  pressure,  warm  and  soft, 
Methinks  I  feel  it  now  ; 
As  when  she  knelt  and  ask'd  in  prayer, 
That  God  my  soul  would  make  his  care  ; 
This  oft  she  did,  at  twilight  hour, 
And  still  I  feel  its  soothing  power. 

My  mother's  kiss,  my  mother's  kiss, 

With  rapture  thrilled  my  soul ; 
No  power  could  heal  my  grief  like  this, 
My  joys  knewT  no  control. 
When  she  my  tiny  hand  would  press, 
And  smiling,  give  the  fond  caress, 
I  thought  e'n  then,  that  smiles  of  love, 
Would  guide  me  to  the  realms  above. 

My  mother  dear,  to  thee  't  was  given 
To  point  thy  erring  child  to  heaven  ; 
Thy  dying  voice  was  spent  in  prayer, — 
And  when  I  knelt  beside  thee  there, 
And  laid  upon  my  bursting  heart, 
Thy  death-cold  hand,  thou  didst  impart 
To  me  thy  last  sweet  kiss  of  love, 
Then  smiling,  soared  to  realms  above. 


PEEK-A-BOO    WITH    ANGELS.  173 

Ah  !  since  that  hour,  that  painful  hour, 

No  friend  like  thee  I  Ve  found  ; 
No  sympathizing,  soothing  power, 
Such  influence  sheds  around. 
But  though  the  world  with  woe  is  rife, 
With  grace  I  '11  nerve  me  for  its  strife ; 
And  press  with  vigor  to  that  shore, 
Mother !  where  we  shall  part  no  more. 


PEEK-A-BOO  WITH  ANGELS. 

A  father  from  New  Jersey  informs  us  that  on  entering  his  parlor  one  evening 
he  heard  a  soft,  sweet  voice  saying,  "  Pcet-a-boo  Ane !  Peet-a-boo  AneV  On 
looking  around  he  observed  his  darling  babe,  not  two  years  old,  holding  in  its 
little  hand  a  picture  representing  a  group  of  angels,  one  of  which  was  peering 
over  a  cloud,  which  the  happy  child  had  innocently  imagined  was  playing 
with  her.    The  reading  of  the  above  incident  occasioned  the  following  lines : 

Happy,  happy  little  baby  ! 

Does  the  angel  heed  thy  voice  1 
Thou  mayest  "  Peet-a-boo ,"  it  may  be, — 

Brighter  seraphs  now  rejoice, 
While  thou  sit'st  in  mood  so  lovely, 
Watch  they  not  in  joy  above  thee  ? 

Like  the  morning's  opening  blossom, 

Sparkling  in  the  dews  of  night, 
So  thy  young  and  tender  bosom, 

Drinks  in  ever  new  delight. 
Dream'st  thou  not  of  Heaven's  bright  glory, 
When  soft  slumber  stealeth  o'er  thee  1 


174  TO    W.    H.    A. 

Happy,  happy  little  creature, 

Sin  thy  heart  has  never  known, — 

Joy  inscribed  on  every  feature, 
Innocent  that  prattling  tongue — 

But  thou  'rt  in  a  world  of  sorrow, 

Though  thou  heedest  not  the  morrow. 

Earth  has  pleasures,  but  they  're  fleeting, 
As  the  rainbow's  varied  gleam, 

While  we  grasp,  they  're  e'en  retreating 
Like  the  shadows  of  a  dream  : 

Fondest  hopes  are  crushed  and  withered, 

Strongest  ties  by  death  are  severed. 

Oh,  if  after  years  could  show  thee, 
Innocent  and  pure  as  now  ! — 

But  alone  in  realms  of  glory, 

Sinless  wreaths  entwine  the  brow ; 

There  may'st  thou  in  accents  lowly, 

Sing  with  angels,  Holy !  Holy  ! 


TO  W.  H.  A,  A  YOUNG  STUDENT. 

While  the  days  of  youth  are  flying, 
In  the  far  perspective  view, 

Let  some  point  of  fame  be  rising  ; 
Labor  then  with  courage  true. 


NATURAL    LOVE    OF    LIBERTY.  175 

In  thy  aspirations  ever 

As  a  guide  true  wisdom  seek, 
Make  a  guardian  angel  of  her, 

Hallowed  joys  her  ways  bespeak. 

And  if  manhood's  hours  are  twining, 
Brighter  charms  around  thy  path ; 

Early  scenes  may  faintly  shining, 
Link  the  present  to  the  past. 


NATURAL  LOVE  OF  LIBERTY. 

CONVERSATION    BETWEEN    A    MOTHER   AND    HER    CHILD    WHILE    ENJOYING 
A    RAMBLE    IN    THE    COUNTRY. 

CHILD. 

Dear  mother,  see  that  little  bird 

Expand  its  wings  and  fly  ; 
And  then  such  pretty  notes  I  heard 

As  up,  it  soared  on  high. 

I  'd  love  to  live  where  songs  so  sweet 

Fall  on  the  list'ning  ear  ; 
The  shady  nook — the  mossy  seat, 

Are  joys  I  should  revere. 

But,  mother,  would  those  birds  we  see 

In  cages  closely  pent, 
More  gaily  sing  on  yonder  tree 

Or  feel  more  sweet  content  ? 


176  THE  WEEPING  BOY, 

MOTHER. 

Let  reason  solve  the  question,  child  ; 

Blot  freedom  from  our  page, 
Then  would  our  earth  be  drear  and  wild 

And  sorrows  grow  with  age. 

T  was  by  our  Heavenly  Father's  hand, 
Each  living  thing  was  made ; 

The  ravens  fly  at  his  command, 
And  lilies  deck  the  glade. 

And  sweeter  far  the  balmy  gale, 
They  taste  in  Nature's  bowers  p 

Than  all  the  odors  they  inhale, 
In  halls  or  gilded  towers. 

I  'd  gladly  set  the  captives  free. 

And  list  with  joyful  ear, 
The  cheerful  notes  of  Liberty,, 

Resounding  through  the  air  I 


THE  WEEPING  BOY. 

A  boy  with  pallid  cheek  sat  down 

Beside  his  city  door, 
And  little  friends  soon  gathered  round, 
To  cheer  his  heart  once  more. 
They  loved  the  child, 
That  wept  and  smiled. 


THE    WEEPING    BOY.  177 

A  cloud  of  sorrow  veiled  him  now, 

His  bosom  heaved  a  sigh ; 
But  soon  he  calmed  his  noble  brow, 
And  wiped  his  mild  black  eye  ; 
Then  said  the  child, 
In  accents  mild, 

"  I  thought  of  home,  my  dear  old  home, 

Where  winds  were  soft  and  free  ; 
Where  every  bloom  and  sweet  perfume, 
Were  ever  dear  to  me. 
I  loved  that  home, 
That  quiet  home. 

"  One  heart  was  there,  with  me  to  share 

Each  pleasure  and  each  joy  : 
My  mother  dear !  thy  smile  could  cheer, 
E'en  now,  thy  dying  boy. 
Would  thou  wert  here, 
My  mother  dear. 

"  But  even  this  would  not  be  bliss, 

For  thou  art  happier  far, 
In  light  divine  where  angels  shine, 
Beyond  the  twinkling  star. 
There,  too,  is  joy, 
For  thy  sick  boy. 

"  And  how  I  'd  love  again  to  rove, 

O'er  those  bright  sunny  hills,  * 
8* 


178  THE    WEEPING    BOY. 

Where  violets  peep,  and  woodbines  creep, 
And  sparkle  merry  rills. 
Those  waters  bright, 
Were  my  delight. 

"  Such  goodly  trees,  such  ancient  trees, 

In  that  old  church-yard  grew ; 
The  sun's  bright  ray,  and  moonbeams  play 
Those  pendant  branches  through, 
There  some  sweet  bird, 
I  always  heard. 

"  One  humble  mound  was  in  that  ground, 

Where  sleeps  my  mother  dear  ; 
There  wild  flowers  wave  around  her  grave 
Wet  now  by  no  one's  tear. 
Far  from  her  bed 
My  tears  are  shed. 

"  Oh !  could  I  rest  on  thy  cold  breast, 

When  all  my  pains  are  o'er  ; 
Mingle  with  thine  this  dust  of  mine, 
Mother  I  'd  ask  no  more. 
This  would  be  joy, 
To  thy  poor  boy. 

"  Sweet  mother  now  come  fan  my  brow, 

With  wings  of  holy  love ; 
Then  let  me  rest  on  thy  own  breast, 
And  sing  with  thee  above. 
There,  there  is  room, 
Mother,  I  come !'" 


ada's  grave.  179 


AN  ACROSTIC. 


Religion,  the  best  treasure  that  man  can  possess, 
Ever  fills  the  fond  heart  with  pure  happiness  : 
Like  it  there  is  nothing,  to  quell  every  fear, 
Its  joys  are  substantial,  its  pleasures  sincere. 
Great  peace  to  the  mind,  this  treasure  bestows, 
In  health,  or  in  sickness,  't  is  a  balm  for  our  woes. 
Of  all  the  enjoyments  that  earth  can  afford, 
None  equal  this  blessing,  this  gift  of  the  Lord. 


ADA'S  GRAVE. 

**  And  in  the  garden  there  was  a  sepulchre."— Bible. 

The  Spring  has  come  again,  Mother, 

The  gentle  breezes  blow  ; 
And  yonder  little  stream,  Mother, 
How  noisy  it  does  grow  ; 
And  just  now,  down  the  narrow  lane, 
The  twittering  swallow  sang  again. 

And  here  the  red-breast,  too,  Mother, 

Was  hopping  all  about ; 
I  really  thought  that  he  was  glad, 
The  pleasant  sun  was  out. 
Oh  how  I  love  the  cheerful  spring. 
The  happy  birds  and  every  thing. 


180  ada's  grave. 

And  near  the  streamlet's  brink.  Mother, 

These  modest  violets  grew  ; 
Such  little  beauties,  only  think, 
I  picked  them  all  for  you. 
My  Heavenly  Father  placed  them  there, 
He  makes  the  humblest  flower  His  care. 

You  said,  when  Spring  again,  Mother, 

Such  beauty  spread  around  ; 
That  1.  beside  the  pleasant  lane. 
Should  have  a  plot  of  ground, 
Where  I  some  little  seeds  might  sow, 
And  see  my  own  sweet  posies  grow. 

When  Summer's  breath  was  warm  and  bland, 

And  skies  were  soft  and  blue ; 
Her  garden  showed  a  tasteful  hand, 
With  flowers  of  every  hue. 
And  for  her  mother's  vase  each  day, 
The  choicest  ones  she  bore  away. 

But  ere  the  chill  of  Autumn  spread 

Its  Aiding  robe  around  ; 
A  deep  and  narrow  grave  was  made 
Within  that  garden  ground, 
And  Ada  touud  her  last  repose, 
Beneath  her  own  sweet  blooming  rose. 

Sleep  on,  dear  child,  thy  flow'ry  bed, 
Will  be  a  sacred  spot ; 


GRAND-PA    AND    ROSA.  181 

Though  soon,  like  thee,  its  beauties  fade, 
Thy  loved  forget-me-not 
Will  bloom  in  all  its  freshness  when, 
The  pleasant  Spring  shall  come  agaim 

So  Ada's  precious  dust  shall  rise, 

When  flowers  shall  cease  to  bloom  ; 
And  clothed  afresh,  beyond  the  skies, 
In  heavenly  gardens  roam. 
Where  God's  own  love  adorns  the  bowers, 
With  sweeter,  never-changing  flowers. 


GRAXD-PA  AND  ROSA. 

An  old  man  sat  in  his  easy  chair, 

Within  his  little  room  ; 
His  eyes  were  dim,  and  his  silvery  hair 

In  scattered  ringlets  hung. 

Time  on  his  noble  brow  had  traced 

Its  furrows  long  and  deep  ; 
His  manly  step,  and  form  of  grace, 

Were  tottYing  now  and  weak. 

No  common  sound  e'er  met  his  ear, 

He  sat  absorbed  in  thought; 
When  round  his  neck,  the  arm  most  dear, 

Of  a  child,  was  kindly  brought. 


182 


GRAND-PA    AND    ROSA. 


u  Thou  'rt  sitting,  grand-pa,  all  alone, 

I  think  you  must  be  sad  ;" 
She  said,  in  a  loud  but  gentle  tone, 

As  she  strove  to  make  him  glad. 

"  But  grand-pa  's  not  alone,  ray  child  ; 

For  he,  in  early  youth, 
From  God's  blest  pages  stored  his  mind, 

With  sweet  and  precious  truth. 

"  'T  is  now  a  fountain  in  my  soul, 

Of  living  waters  bright ; 
At  memory's  gentle  touch  they  roll 

Upon  my  mental  sight. 

"  Jesus  his  angels  soon  will  send, 
And  take  dear  grand-pa  home, 

To  meet  his  kindred  and  his  friends  ; 
Will  his  sweet  Rosa  come, 


"  And  shine  a  gem,  to  Jesus  given, 

A  rose  of  heavenly  birth ; 
And  make  dear  grand-pa  glad  in  heaven, 

As  she  does  now  on  earth?" 


the  mother's  hope.  183 

THE  MOTHER'S  HOPE. 

Mother.  I  Ve  said  my  little  prayer, 

And  now  shall  I  retire  ; 
And  leave  you  cold  and  hungry  there, 

Beside  the  flickering  fire  ? 
Oh,  no !  the  wind  is  cold  and  raw, 
Come  with  me  to  my  couch  of  straw. 

My  little  sisters  wept,  and  took 

The  last  small  crum  of  bread ; 
Then  asked  for  more,  with  such  a  look, 

But  not  a  word  you  said  ; 
I  knew  your  heart  was  almost  broke, 
Though  not  a  word  to  them  you  spoke. 

You  kissed,  and  wiped  their  falling  tears, 
With  your  pale  trembling  hand  ; 

Then  whispered,  "  Go  to  bed,  my  dears  ; 
To-morrow  I  will  send 

And  get  a  loaf  of  nice  white  bread, 

And  you  and  brother  shall  be  fed." 

Mother,  should  we  so  hungry  be, 

If  my  papa  was  kind  ? 
Oh  !  will  he  never  stay  with  thee, 

And  leave  the  cursed  wine  ? 
And  yet  I  dread  to  have  him  come, 
And  madly  rave  around  the  room. 


184  the  mother's  hope. 

Mother,  your  tears  are  falling  fast, 

You  cannot  see  to  sew ; 
The  nickering  flame  is  sunk  at  last ; 

Dear  mother  with  me  go. 
Then  early  to  the  shop  I  '11  trip, 
To  take  your  work,  some  bread  to  get. 

Mother,  I  soon  a  man  shall  be, 
And  then  a  nice  warm  room, 

With  sisters,  I  will  share  with  thee, 
And  have  a  happy  home ; 

With  cheerful  hearts  we  '11  work  all  day, 

And  chase  your  bitter  tears  away. 

Far,  far  beyond  the  rolling  deep, 
There  's  bread  enough  they  say  ; 

And  there  a  happy  home  we  '11  seek 
In  broad  America. 

We  '11  leave  sweet  Erin  then  behind, 

And  plenty  there  we  soon  shall  find. 

Then  by  his  mother's  side  he  knelt, 

And  both,  to  God  above, 
Uttered  a  fervent  prayer,  and  felt 

That  he  would  soon  in  love, 
On  Freedom's  soil,  that  blest  retreat, 
Grant  them  a  home,  and  bread  to  eat. 


185 


THE  ORPHAN'S  DREAM. 

I  've  no  father  here  to  love  me, 
And  no  tender  mother's  kiss ; 

Both  are  in  the  skies  above  me, 
Both  are  safe  in  realms  of  bliss. 

Oh,  I  was  a  lonely  being, 

Even  when  a  prattling  child  ; 

And  my  tearful  eyes  were  seeing, 
Happier  faces  all  the  while. 

Oft  my  pillow  in  the  morning 
Told  that  even  when  I  slept, 

From  my  sealed  eyes  were  falling 
Tears  that  I  from  others  kept. 

Then  it  was  I  dreamed  of  angels, 
Standing  round  my  lonely  bed  ; 

While  their  noiseless,  shining  pinions, 
Gently  fanned  my  aching  head. 

One  seemed  fairer  than  the  others, 
Watching  with  more  earnest  joy  ; 

Oh  !  I  knew  it  was  my  mother, 
Come  to  smile  upon  her  boy. 

And  I  felt  a  gentle  pressure 

On  my  burning  dimpled  cheek ; 

As  I  raised  my  hands  to  clasp  her, 
Crying,  sainted  mother  speak  ; 


186 


Speak,  and  cheer  my  saddened  spirit, 
Stay,  and  comfort  my  lone  heart ! 

"  Strength,  my  child,  to  nobly  bear  it, 
"  God,"  she  whispered,  ';  will  impart. 


All  my  cares  and  all  my  joy  ; 
And  I  know  that  He  will  never 
Leave  the  lonely  orphan  boy. 


"  WHY  DON'T  MY  BROTHER  COME  V 


It  was  not  imagination  that  caused  me  to  write  these  lines,  but  deep  feeling 
for  the  loss  of  my  own  dear  babe,  together  with  the  inquiry  made  in  the  very 
words  I  have  used  as  a  title,  by  my  little  surviving  son,  not  yet  lour  years  old. 


CHILD. 

Mother,  why  don't  my  brother  come  1 
So  long  why  does  he  stay  1 

I  know  they  took  him  from  our  home, 
And  bore  him  slow  away. 

I  saw  the  man  the  coffin  place 
Down  in  the  vault  so  drear, 

But  oh !  I  wish  to  see  his  face, 
Mother,  I  want  him  here. 


"  why  don't  my  BROTHER  COME.        187 

I  fain  would  kiss  dear  Charles  again, 

And  love  him  all  the  while, 
So  good  was  he,  and  happy  when 

I  played  and  made  him  smile. 

MOTHER. 

Dear  child,  although  our  darling  one 

Lies  mouldering  with  the  dead  ; 
Our  Jesus  took  the  sufferer  home, 

And  blessed  his  sleeping  bed. 

No  more  shall  we  behold  his  charms, 

Or  kiss  his  smiling  face ; 
He  's  safe  at  last  in  Jesus'  arms, 

And  rests  in  his  embrace. 

And  if  you  wish  to  meet  above, 

Your  little  brother  dear, 
You  must  be  good,  the  Saviour  love, 

And  he  will  take  you  there. 

And  I,  too,  hope,  through  sovereign  grace, 

When  all  life's  toils  are  o'er, 
To  clasp  him  in  my  fond  embrace, 

And  Jesus'  name  adore. 


188  KEEP    THY    HEART    WITH    ALL    DILIGENCE. 

KEEP  THY  HEART  WITH  ALL  DILIGENCE. 

Children,  round  thy  guileless  heart, 

Good  and  ill  are  striving, 
Evil  stands  with  gilded  dart, — 
Flat'ry  claims  a  little  part, — 

Selfishness  is  rising. 

Gently,  gently  close  the  door, 

Bid  them  not  to  enter  ; 
Pride,  with  jewels  sparkling  o'er, 
Curls  her  lip,  her  wants  a  score, 

Follows  at  a  venture. 

Quickly,  quickly  from  them  flee, 

Other  forms  are  coming ; 
Anger,  hatred,  malice,  see, 
Hurry,  hurry,  turn  the  key, 

Fiercer  foes  are  roaming. 

But  afar  in  Orient  light, 

Like  a  shining  angel, 
Love  appears  with  form  bedight, 
Golden  locks  are  waving  bright, 

Joyously  she  's  smiling. 

Open  wide  the  well-barred  door, 

Clasp  her  to  your  bosom  ; 
She  has  joys  laid  up  in  store, 
Shedding  fragrance  evermore, 

Like  a  heav'nly  blossom. 


KEEP    THY    HEART    WITH    ALL    DILIGENCE.  189 

Kindness  follows  in  her  train, 

Peace,  the  olive  twining, 
Spreads  around  life's  sunny  plain, 
Charms,  which  with  her  golden  chain, 

Kindred  hearts  are  binding. 

Oh  !  guard  well  the  treach'rous  door, 

Stand  with  smiling  faces  ; 
While  love's  pinions  hover  o'er, 
Eden's  pleasures  to  restore, 

Welcome  in  the  graces. 


t  a  s  1 0  h  a  r  j 


THE  MISSIONARY'S  FAREWELL. 

Native  land,  thy  joys  are  twining 
Closely,  round  our  throbbing  heart ; 

Verdant  mountains  brightly  shining, 
Can  it  be  that  we  must  part  1 

Scenes  of  early  days  are  telling, 
Sweeter  joys  can  ne'er  be  found  ; 

Can  we  leave  our  much-loved  dwelling, 
Hence  to  tread  on  Burmah's  ground  1 

Dearer  are  the  friends  of  Jesus, 
Stronger  grows  each  sacred  tie, — 

Brethren,  will  your  prayers  sustain  us, 
When  beneath  that  darker  sky  1 

Oh  !  thou  precious  dying  Saviour, 
'T  is  thy  love  impels  us  on  ; 

Haste  we  then,  these  ties  we  '11  sever, 
Burmah  !  hence  shall  be  our  home. 


192 


TO    MRS.    LYDIA    DEVANT. 

Gladly  there  upon  the  mountain, 

Or  within  the  jungle's  dell, 
"We,  of  sin's  atoning  fountain 

Will  those  wretched  heathen  tell. 

Farewell  then,  kind  friends,  forever, 
Though  we  fall  on  foreign  ground  ; 

Soon  we  '11  meet,  where  friends  are  never 
Pained  to  hear  a  farewell  sound. 


TO  MRS.  LYDIA  DEVAN. 

These  lines  were  written  for  the  occasion,  and  sun?  at  a  meeting  of  the  sis- 
ters of  the  Bere.in  Baptist  Church,  N.  Y.,  convened  tor  the  purpose  of  making 
arrangements  for  the  outfit  of  sister  Devan,  at  which  meeting  sl.e  related  her 
views  with  regard  to  the  China  Mission. 

Sister,  we  will  gather  'round  you 

And  our  offerings  freely  bring. 
We  will  pledge  when  waves  surround  you 

Prayer  shall  rise  to  Christ  our  king ; 
And  when  o'er  the  deep  dark  waters 

Thou  shalt  tell  a  Saviour's  love, 
We  will  pray  that  China's  daughters 

May  be  harmless  as  the  dove. 

God  has  said  to  every  nation 

Where  the  tide  of  sin  doth  roll, 
I  will  send  my  great  salvation 

To  redeem  the  deathless  soul. 


THE    YOUTHFUL    MISSIONARY.  193 

China's  gates  are  now  thrown  open ; 

On  with  joy  and  take  the  field, 
Stronger  fetters  will  be  broken 

And  the  powers  of  darkness  yield. 

What  though  kindred  ties  are  riven, 

And  the  bitter  tears  may  fall ; 
When  the  "  well  done  "  shall  be  given, 

We  '11  with  joy  each  scene  recall. 
Fear  not  sister,  God  is  with  you, 

He  will  guide  you  o'er  the  deep, 
All  sufficient  grace  he  '11  give  you, 

And  your  soul  in  safety  keep. 
1844. 


THE  YOUTHFUL  MISSIONARY. 

He  laid  him  down  to  rest,  but  sleep  had  fled, 
And  sorrow's  heaving  sigh  full  oft  was  heard, 
And  tears  of  tender  sympathy  and  love 
Upon  his  downy  pillow  frequent  fell. 
Though  but  a  child,  his  heart  had  felt  that  love 
Which  He,  who  "  so  did  love  the  world"  had  felt. 
When,  from  His  own  embrace,  he  gave  His  Son, 
To  save  from  endless  death,  whoe'er  believed, 
And  sought  in  him  to  gain  eternal  life. 


104  THE    YOUTH  ILL    MISSIONARY. 

fancy  had  led  him  o'er  the  mighty  deep, 

And  there,  writhing  beneath  the  pond'rous  wheels— 

The  "  sacred  "  car  of  wretched  Juggernaut — 

He  saw  its-  suffering  votaries  lie 

A  sacrifice  and  offering  to  their  god. 

And  helpless  babes  were  to  the  monsters  thrown, 

Or  cast  in  cruel  Moloch's  heated  arms, 

To  perish  'midst  the  clamor  of  the  crowd. 

Oh  !  were  I  where  those  wretched  outcasts  lie, 

Upon  the  banks  of  "  holy  "  Ganges'  stream  ; 

I  'd  raise  their  heads  and  whisper  in  their  ears, 

Their  dying  ears,  the  tale  of  Jesus's  love. 

I  'd  tell  them  that  the  blessed  Saviour  sought 

And  found  so  vile  a  wretch  as  sinful  me, 

And  in  His  own  dear  precious  blood  did  wash, 

And  cleanse  from  ev'ry  stain,  my  sin-polluted  soul. 

Ye  blinded,  superstitious  race,  who  drag 
The  heavy  chains  of  ignorance  and  vice, 
And  vainly  seek  salvation  in  those  deeds 
^Which  cools  the  very  blood  within  my  veins, 
How  soon  would  you  abhor  your  lust  and  weep 
In  dust  before  the  Saviour's  blessed  feet, 
Could  you  but  know  the  story  of  the  Cross  ! 
And  who  will  spread  abroad  the  glorious  news — 
The  tidings  of  redemption  through  that  blood 
Which  freely  flowed  on  Calvary's  hill  ? 


LINES.  195 

LIKES 

AFFECTIONATELY    ADDRESSED    TO    THE    CHILDREN    OF    BRETHREN    BROWN 

AND    BARKER,    WHO    VISITED    THE    BEREAN    SUNDAY-SCHOOL    IN 

COMPANY    WITH    SISTER    E.    W.    BROWN,    OF    ASSAM, 

FEBRUARY    14,    1847. 

Dear  children  from  a  foreign  land, 

Where  strangers  vainly  seek 
All  blessings  from  their  idol  gods, 

Which  neither  hear  nor  speak — 

Tired  of  those  cruel,  horrid  sights, 

Which  daily  met  the  eye, 
You  've  turned  away  to  scenes  more  bright, 

And  sought  our  western  sky. 

'T  was  here  your  parents  early  trod 

Their  peaceful,  happy  plains  ; 
Here  early  gave  their  hearts  to  God, 

Then  turned  where  darkness  reigns. 

That  burning  love  for  dying  souls 

That  led  them  o'er  the  deep, 
Now  calls  more  bitter  tears  to  roll 

From  eyes  long  used  to  weep. 

A  sacrifice  like  this  to  make, 

To  burst  these  tender  ties, 
And  feel  't  is  all  for  Jesus'  sake, 

Our  God  will  not  despise. 


196  THE    LAST    INTERVIEW. 

He  '11  raise  up  kindred  souls  to  care 
For  children  such  as  these, 

And  hear  the  tender  mother's  prayer, 
Though  breathed  beyond  the  seas. 


THE  LAST  INTERVIEW. 

The  parting  hour  had  come — the  appointed  work 
Of  Christ  on  earth  was  done,  for  he  had  borne 
On  Calvary's  cross,  the  curse  for  guilty  man, 
Had  sufFer'd,  died,  and  triumph'd  o'er  the  grave. 
Upon  the  eastern  slope  of  Olivet 
The  chosen  ones  with  Christ  their  master  stood. 

Upon  their  listening  ears  his  parting  words, 
Like  notes  of  heavenly  music,  sweetly  fell ; 
"  Be  ye  my  witnesses  to  Israel's  seed, 
And  to  the  Gentile  race.     In  Judea's  land, 
And  in  Jerusalem,  Samaria, 
And  e'en  to  earth's  remotest  limits,  tell 
How  I  have  wept,  and  groan 'd,  and  died, 
And  burst  in  twain  the  fetters  of  the  tomb." 

He  stood  with  hands  and  eyes  upraised  to  Heaven ; 
And  as  he  bless'd  the  astonish'd  band,  a  cloud 
Of  dazzling  brightness  veil'd  him  from  their  sight. 
Then  songs  were  heard  in  Heaven,  "  Lift  up  your  heads, 


THE    LAST    INTERVIEW.  197 

Ye  gates,  and  let  the  King  of  Glory  in." 

And  prayers  were  heard  on  earth,  in  reverence  breathed 

Forth  by  that  lowly  band,  who  prostrate  bow'd 

And  worshipp'd  Him,  who  to  the  realm  of  bliss 

Had  gone  to  take  his  ancient  seat  beside 

The  Father's  throne. 

Full  eighteen  hundred  years 
Have  run  their  race,  and  countless  millions  down 
To  death  have  sunk,  since  thus  the  Saviour  breathed 
Sweet  words  of  mercy  for  a  fallen  world, 
And  millions  yet  ne'er  heard  that  Jesus  died. 
But  lo  !  the  blessed  time  is  drawing  nigh, 
When  Zion's  slumbering  watchmen  shall  awake, 
And  sound  the  alarm  from  Mount  Moriah's  shade. 
Gentile  and  Jew  in  love  shall  meekly  bow 
Beneath  the  standard  of  the  Saviour's  cross, 
And  tell  the  triumphs  of  redeeming  love. 
The  scatter'd  sons  of  Israel's  chosen  race 
The  olive  and  the  clust'ring  vine  shall  prune, 
And  worship  on  their  own  beloved  hill 
The  Father  and  the  ever-blessed  Son. 
And  soon  shall  sable  Ethiopia,  too, 
Her  hands  stretch  forth,  in  praises  glorious, 
To  Him  whose  precious  blood  salvation  brought. 
The  isles  that  speck  the  mighty  deep  shall  hear, 
And  from  the  idols  which  their  hands  have  made 
Shall  rise,  and  grasp  the  precious  saving  truth, 
And  shout  aloud  salvation  through  our  God. 
From  ev'ry  ship  that  ploughs  the  spreading  sea, 


198  HYMN. 

The  banner  of  the  peaceful  dove  shall  stream, 
And  from  the  altar  of  the  stoutest  heart 
Shall  purest  incense  rise  to  Christ  our  King. 
Then  come,  ye  fainting,  feeble,  blood-bought  souls, 
Come  bow  in  humble  faith  before  the  throne, 
And  there  devoutly  pray — "  Thy  kingdom  come, 
Thy  blessed,  gracious  will  be  done  on  earth, 
As  't  is  by  angels  round  the  throne  above.'' 
Then  shall  prevail  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord, 
And  Jesus'  dying  love  fill  all  the  earth. 


HYMX— "  COMSTOCK,  THE  MISSIONARY. 

Long  since  stood  a  pilgrim  weary, 
On  dark  Burmah's  distant  shore  ; — 

Can  these  waves,  thought  he,  so  dreary, 
Bear  my  loved  ones  safely  o'er  1 

From  his  bosom's  depth  was  welling 

Up  the  tears  of  bitter  grief; 
And  that  parting  scene  was  telling, 

Joys  on  earth  are  few  and  brief. 

But  the  love  of  Christ  sustained  him, 
And  his  fervent  prayer  thus  ran  : 

"  Brother,  still  remember  Burmah  ! 
Send  us  help  for  Arracan  !"" 


LINES    TO    W.   T.    BIDDLE.  199 

Lowly  now  that  form  is  lying, 

On  the  field  he  laid  him  down ; 
But  the  echo  still  is  flying, 

"  Help  for  Burmah  must  be  found  P 


Who,  among  this  happy  number 
Will  respond,  a  Lord,  here  am  I ! 

And  with  sainted  Comstock  slumber 
'Neath  that  sin-benighted  sky  1 

Soon  the  star  of  Jesus'  glory, 

Will  in  noon-tide  splendor  glow  ; 

Haste,  oh !  tell  Redemption's  story, 
Let  the  world  its  triumph  know! 


LINES  TO  W.  T.  BIDDLE. 

WRITTEN    BY    THE    AUTHOR,    AND    READ    BY    DR.    DOWLING    AT    THE    ORDINA- 
TION   OF    WILLIAM    T.    BIDDLE,    MISSIONARY    TO    BURMAH. 

Ah  !  why  dost  thou  go  from  this  loved  spot  of  earth  ? 

Thy  home  and  thy  friends  and  kindred  are  here  ; 
Has  the  soil  that  gave  to  freedom  its  birth. 

No  pleasures  to  charm  thee,  no  joys  that  are  dear  1 

Has  the  sweet  Sabbath-bell,  as  it  peals  through  the  air, 
No  tone  in  thy  bosom  responsive  of  joy  1 

Or  is  thy  heart  cold  when  the  accents  of  prayer 
And  anthems  of  praises  the  humble  employ  ? 


200  LINES    TO    W.    T.    BIDDLE. 

On  the  arm  of  God  reclining, 
Thou  art  happy  to  depart, 

Though  the  ties  of  love  are  twining 
Closely  round  thy  throbbing  heart. 

Earnest  pleadings  from  that  nation, 
Buried  long  in  sin's  dark  night, 

In  thy  soul  has  waked  compassion — 
Haste  then  with  the  gospel  light ! 

Not  like  those  who  early  suffered, 
Goest  thou  o'er  the  tossing  deep ; 

But,  like  them,  thy  life  is  offered, 
And  with  them  thy  dust  may  sleep. 

Hasten  then,  oh,  gladly  hasten  ! 

To  the  shores  of  Burmah  fly 
With  the  message  of  salvation, 

Ere  those  sin-led  captives  die. 

Let  not  friendship's  tears  detain  thee 
Longer  in  thy  happy  home  ; 

Christ  thy  Saviour  will  sustain  thee 
On  the  raging  billow's  foam. 

Yes,  He  left  his  Father's  bosom — 
Left  the  portals  of  the  sky  ; 

But  it  was  an  humbler  mission 
'T  was  to  suffer,  bleed  and  die. 


THE    FALLEN    MISSIONARY.  201 

Oh.  proclaim  this  great  salvation ! 

Jesus'  love  will  pardon  bring  : 
Precious  Savio  ur  !  soon  the  nations 

Shall  arise  and  crown  thee  King. 
August,  1851. 


THE  FALLEN"  MISSIONARY: 

The  following  lines,  on  the  death  of  our  lamented  brother,  Rev.  William 
Thomas  Biddle,  were  read  at  the  close  of  his  funeral  sermon  by  Rev.  J.  R. 
Stone,  pastor  of  the  Berean  Baptlsi  Church,  of  which.  Mr.  B.  was  a  member. 

Zion  weep !  thy  ranks  are  broken, 
From  thy  heights  a  star  has  flown, 

Which  we  hailed  a  glorious  token, 
And  dark  Burmah  called  her  own. 

Zion  weep  !  thy  hopes  are  blighted, 
God  has  claimed  thy  precious  boon, 

Thou  hadst  given  that  land  benighted, 
Where  the  pleading  cry  is  "  Come." 

Zion  weep !  One  heart  was  yearning, 
For  those  souls  condemned  to  die  ; 

And  to  them  with  joy  was  turning,- 
Pleased  to  leave  his  native  sky. 

Zion  weep  !  for  Jesus  called  him, 

Ere  he  put  his  armor  on, 
Wreathed  with  cypress  is  the  laurel, 

But  a  brighter  crown  is  won. 


202  THE    SPIRIT    BIRD. 

Zion  pray  !  for  clouds  and  darkness, 
Are  around  His  holy  throne. 

Zion  pray  !  while  yet  in  sadness, 

God  thy  tears  and  prayers  will  own. 

September,  1851. 


THE  SPIRIT  BIRD. 

AN  INCIDENT  RELATED  BY  MRS.  OSBORNE,  IN  HER  "  WORLD  OF  WATERS.* 

A  New  Zealand  Chief,  who  knew  not  his  God, 
Was  called  to  lay  down  beneath  the  cold  sod 
The  son  of  his  love,  to  whom  he  had  clung, 
And  oh  !  with  what  anguish  his  bosom  was  wrung. 

What  hope  hath  the  heathen  to  cheer  his  sad  heart, 
Beyond  the  cold  grave  ?     Is  there  aught  can  impart 
One  ray  to  console  him,  or  light  the  dark  storm, 
Which  breaks  on  his  pathway,  betok'ning  no  morn  ? 

But  when  in  a  bush,  this  chieftain  descried, 
A  bird  of  bright  plumage,  his  tears  were  all  dried ; 
He  listened  with  rapture,  believing  he  heard 
The  voice  of  his  child  in  the  song  of  the  bird. 

Oh  !  had  the  blest  gospel  of  Jesus  been  given, 
Like  a  rainbow  of  promise  to  point  him  to  heaven; 
A  holier  rapture  Ins  spirit  had  known, 
And  faith  plumed  her  wings  to  meet  at  his  throne. 


203 


LIXES 


ADDRESSED   TO    REV.    J.    L.    SHUCK,    WHOSE    INFANT    SON    WAS    BURIED    IN    THS 
OCEAN.,    DURING    THE    PASSAGK    OF    MR.    S.    TO    THIS    COUNTRY. 

"  And  the  sea  gave  up  the  dead  which  were  in  it," 

The  father  knelt  in  anguish  there, 

"With  smitten  heart,  and  lone 
Within  the  narrow  cabin  where 

He  watched  his  darling  son. 

Oh !  't  was  an  hour  of  bitter  grief; — 

No  mother  watched  thy  bed 
Fair  child,  or  kindly  brought  relief 

To  thy  poor,  aching  head. 

No,  no  ;  thy  sainted  mother's  kiss 

Was  never  felt  till  thou 
Wast  folded  in  her  arms  in  bliss, 

Where  angels  crowned  thy  brow. 

But  oh,  an  hour  of  deeper  gloom 

Awaits  the  man  of  God, 
When  Henri  finds  his  infant  tomb 

Beneath  the  yielding  flood. 

Celestial  wings  the  blue  wave  fanned, 

Sweet  voices  uttered  there, 
"  O  weeper,  stricken  and  unmanned, 

Look  upward — never  fear  ; 


204  TRIUMPHS    OF    THE    GOSPEL. 

"  This  tossing  deep  shall  yield  her  dead 
When  the  high  trump  shall  sound, 

And  China's  ransomed  dust  shall  tread 
With  thee  Immanuel's  ground." 


TRIUMPHS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

The  whiten'd  fields  before  us, 

Betoken  harvest  nigh  ; 
And  every  breeze  implores  us, 
To  lift  our  banner  high  ; 
And  bid  the  nations  gather  round 
The  tree,  with  life  immortal  crown'd ! 

On  earth  its  roots  are  center'd, 

And  here  rich  dews  are  given ; 
Its  lofty  top  has  enter'd 

The  glorious  arch  of  Heaven  ! 
And  soon  the  echo  from  the  Poles, 
Will  tell  us  there  its  fragrance  rolls ! 

With  tears  of  love  we  '11  oner, 
To-night,  our  songs  of  praise, 
And  here,  upon  God's  altar, 
A  sacrifice  we-  '11  raise  ! 
Oh !  may  its  incence  spread  around 
A  Saviour's  love  on  heathen  ground. 


THE    WATER    OF    LIFE.  205 

Our  Mission  ranks  we  '11  rally, 
Till  o'er  the  foaming  seas, — 
O'er  mountain  top  and  valley, 
Our  flag  floats  on  the  breeze  ! 
Then  we  will  shout,  when  nations  come, 
•'  The  conquest  's  ours — the  victory's  won  !" 


THE  WATER  OF  LIFE. 

From  the  fountain  above,  the  waters  of  love, 

Are  issuing  out  from  the  throne ; 
Like  a  river  of  light,  all  sparkling  and  bright, 

And  we  have  its  influence  known. 

As  the  dew-drops  of  heaven,  in  freeness  't  is  given, 

And  mingled  with  tokens  of  grace, 
Which  enrapture  the  heart,  and  bid  us  impart, 

Its  blessings  to  Adam's  lost  race. 

Where  gross  darkness  now  reigns,  and  Satan's  strong 
chains 

Are  binding  the  captives  of  wo  ; 
There,  shall  Salem's  sweet  rose,  its  beauty  disclose, 

And  streams  of  salvation  shall  flow. 


206  THE    TEEMING    WORLD. 

May  we  here  then  prepare,  with  others  to  share, 

Those  joys  that  endure  as  the  soul ; 
Till  by  spreading  God's  love,  this  stream  from  above, 

Shall  over  earth's  wilderness  roll. 

Then  to  God  in  the  skies,  sweet  incense  shall  rise, 

And  nations  unite  in  the  song  ; 
While  the  sons  of  the  deep,  shall  jubilee  keep, 

And  Heaven  the  anthem  prolong. 


THE  TEEMIXG  WORLD. 

The  teeming  world,  our  field,  we  own ; 

With  cheerful  hearts  we  '11  sow 
Beside  all  waters,  to  redeem 

Some  captive  souls  from  wo. 

With  joy  our  native  forests  hear. 

The  Saviour's  welcome  voice  ; 
While  heathen  climes  our  alms  shall  share, 

And  in  his  love  rejoice. 

From  Lebanon's  gigantic  shade — 
From  Carmel's  flow'ry  height ; 

The  peace  of  heaven  again  shall  shed 
Around  a  holy  light. 


FROM    OUR    BELOVED    NATION.  207 

The  scattered  seed,  rich  sheaves  will  show, 

If  wet  with  tears  of  love  ; 
And  God  a  harvest  will  bestow, 

And  garner  it  above. 

There  may  each  happy  donor  meet, 

And  Christ  our  offering  own ; 
When  ransomed  nations  at  his  feet, 

Shall  shout  the  harvest-home. 


FROM  OUR  BELOVED  NATION. 

From  our  beloved  nation 

To  heathen  climes  afar, 
The  blessings  of  salvation 

The  light  of  Bethlehem's  star, 
Has  shed  its  ray  of  gladness, 

Where  sin's  dark  tide  doth  roll, 
And  from  the  chains  of  sadness 

Has  raised  the  captive  soul. 

We  've  prayed  for  olive  China 
And  for  the  dark  Karen, 

And  wept  for  fettered  Burmah 
With  all  its  holv  men. 


208  A    MISSIONARY    MVMN. 

And  asked  the  God  of  heaven 
That  to  his  blessed  Son, 

The  kingdoms  might  be  given — 
His  will  on  earth  be  done. 

Then  let  our  prayers  and  offerings, 

O  Lord,  accepted  be, 
And  those  who  now  are  suffering 

Thy  love  and  glory  see. 
From  wigwam,  hut  and  cabin, 

May  holy  incense  rise  ; 
And  children  waft  the  chorus, 

Salvation,  through  the  skies. 


A  MISSIONARY  HYaTX. 

Ye,  who  have  sought  salvation — 

That  pearl  of  price  unknown, 
Hark  !  from  the  heathen  nation 

Comes  up  a  suppliant  moan. 
Now  onward  it  is  swelling 

Throughout  our  favored  land ; 
To  heaven-born  souls  'tis  calling, 

u  Come,  aid  the  feeble  band." 

Awake  !  gird  on  your  armor, 
The  waving  fields  are  white  ; 


A    MISSIONARY    HYMN.  209 

And  let  the  gospel  banner 

Diffuse  its  sacred  light. 
Go,  spread  the  love  of  Jesus 

O'er  all  the  wide  domain ; 
'T  is  this  alone  can  free  us, 

Or  breaks  the  tempter's  chain. 

The  Great  Sabbatic  morning, 

In  splendor  soon  will  rise ; 
We  hail  with  joy  its  dawning, 

Which  greets  our  raptured  eyes  ; 
Then  rising  from  the  power, 

Of  superstition's  thrall, 
Each  idol-grove  and  tower, 

Before  the  Cross  shall  fall. 


j$  a  H  it  1 1  -  &  r  (]  a  o  I  ♦ 


TO  EUGENTO  KINCAID. 

Lines  sung  by  Sunday-school,  No.  32,  on  Lord's-day  morning,  August  27, 
1843,  when  our  school  was  visited  by  brother  Kincaid,  who  gave  us  a  very  in- 
teresting address,  which  served  to  connect  our  missionary  efforts  in  the  Sun- 
day-school with  his  labors  in  the  East,  and  helped  our  children  to  trace  their 
pennies  to  the  ultimate  good  they  are  intended  to  accomplish. 

Welcome,  dear  servant  of  the  Lord, 

Back  to  thy  native  land, — 
And  we  with  joy  will  list  the  word 

Thou  bring'st  from  Burmah's  strand. 

Full  many  a  day,  in  faith  and  prayer, 
Where  heathen  feet  have  trod, 

Thou  'st  labored  with  a  father's  care 
To  point  their  souls  to  God. 

And  O  what  joy  thy  spirit  felt, 

When  at  the  Saviour's  feet, 
With  thee,  the  anxious  heathen  knelt 

God's  mercy  to  entreat  j 


212 


Or  when  beneath  the  yielding  wave 

Of  Irawadda's  tide, 
Burmah's  dark  sons  allegiance  gave 

To  him  the  crucified. 

Go  on,  dear  servant  of  the  Lord, 
And  still  his  love  proclaim, 

Till  Burmans  all  may  read  his  word 
And  praise  his  holy  name. 


THE  SUXDAY-SOHOOL  SCHOLAR'S  GRATITUDE. 

With  joy  we  hail  the  Sabbath  morn, 

And  Teachers  haste  to  meet, 
Whose  hearts  with  sympathy  are  warm, 

Who  love  to  guide  our  feet. 

We  leave  awhile  our  childish  play, 

And  listen  to  your  voice; 
God  grant  that  we,  the  narrow  way 

May  make  our  early  choice. 

Profusely  on  our  happy  land, 

God  has  his  blessings  shed ; 
Each  Sabbath  here,  a  joyful  band, 

From  thy  blest  word  are  fed. 


kedron's  vale.  213 

Teachers,  we  render  thanks  to  thee, 

For  seed  so  timely  sown — 
May  thy  reward  in  glory  be, 

A  mansion  near  the  Throne. 

Oh,  may  we  live  your  seats  to  fill, 

And  others  tell  of  heaven — 
Till  Truth  shall  spread  o'er  vale  and  hill, 

And  all  to  Christ  be  given. 


KEDRON'S  VALE. 


'T  was  a  damp,  cold  night,  when  the  torches  bright 

Shone  through  dark  Kedron's  dale  ; 
When  the  Jews  rudely  come  on  the  dear  loved  one, 
As  he  wept  in  Kedron's  vale. 
Chorus — Oh  !  Kedron,  dark  Kedron,  dear  Kedron's 
dale. 
Still  the  same  trees  blossom  o'er  that  little 

green  spot 
Where  he  wept  in  the  lonely  vale. 

But  away  from  the  glen  they  bore  him  then, 

And  on  the  rude  cross  did  nail, 
The  Saviour  who  wept,  while  midnight  slept 

Over  him,  in  Kedron's  vale. 
Oh !  Kedron,  &c. 


214     THE  SABBATH-SCHOOL  TEACHER'S  REWARD. 

But  now  he  has  gone,  and  angels  prolong 
His  praises  where  none  can  assail ; 

But  ne'er  be  forgot  that  dear  lone  spot, 
Where  he  wept  in  Kedron's  vale. 
Oh !  Kedron,  &c. 


THE  SABBATH-SCHOOL  TEACHER'S  REWARD. 

I  saw  the  faithful  teacher  stand 

Before  his  class  one  day  ; 
The  word  of  God  was  in  his  hand, 

With  tears  he  taught  the  way. 

He  pointed  to  the  Lamb  of  God, 

WThose  life  was  freely  given 
For  all,  who  seek  through  pard'ning  blood 

The  road  which  leads  to  heaven, 

He  said,  delay  not,  hasten  on  ; 

Though  mercy  's  offered  now, 
To-morrow's  dawn,  or  setting  sun, 

May  light  thy  death-pale  brow. 

But  if  for  years  thou  shouldst  remain 

To  toil  and  labor  here, 
A  great  reward  at  last  you  '11  gain, 

And  crowns  of  glory  wear. 


ONE    CENT    MORE.  215 

And  oh  !  the  happiness  of  those 

Who  early  seek  God's  grace ; 
Who  live  to  soothe  another's  woes, 

Or  dry  the  mourner's  face. 

Though  hard  and  barren  should  the  soil 

To  our  weak  sight  appear ; 
We  sure  shall  reap  for  all  our  toil, 

For  so  His  words  declare. 

And  when  around  the  dazzling  throne 

The  ransomed  throng  shall  meet, 
Eich  sheaves,  for  seed  once  feebly  sown, 

Our  raptured  souls  shall  greet. 


ONE  CENT  MORE. 


Oh,  there  are  many  children  dear, 

In  western  wilds  away, 
Who  no  instruction  meet  to  hear, 

On  God's  most  holy  day. 

That  they  a  life  of  bliss  may  spend 
With  Christ  when  time  is  o'er, 

We  would  some  books  and  teachers  send 
By  giving  One  Cent  more. 


216  FRIEND    OF    CHILDREN. 

FRIEND  OF  CHILDREN. 

Teachers,  here  me  meet  together, 

On  this  holy  Sabbath  day  ; 
Oh  !  we  feel  a  sacred  pleasure, 

When  me  meet  to  praise  and  pray. 
Saviour  hear  us,  Saviour  hear  us, 
While  we  raise  our  grateful  lay. 

Once,  Judea's  parents  brought  thee 

Infants  smiling  in  their  arms ; 
For  thy. blessing  they  besought  thee, 
When  they  saw  thy  gracious  charms. 
Friend  of  children,  Friend  of  children, 
How  he  clasped  them  in  his  arms. 

Now  he  sits  in  yonder  heaven, 
Kindly  bidding  us  to  come  ; 
If  our  hearts  to  him  are  given, 
There  we  '11  sing  a  sweerter  song : 

We  will  praise  him,  we  will  praise  him, 
When  we  join  the  happy  throng. 

May  we  meet  each  faithful  teacher, 

On  that  bright  and  flowery  plain  ; 
With  our  parents  and  kind  preacher. 
There  in  bliss  for  aye  to  reign : 
And  the  glory,  and  the  glory, 
We  '11  ascribe  to  Jesus'  name. 


ANNUAL    HYMN.  217 


ANNUAL  HYMN. 


So  softly  move  the  wings  of  time, 

So  noiseless  is  its  tread, 
That  like  the  past  each  day  we  find, 

Till  weeks  and  years  have  fled. 

Twelve  months  have  passed  since  we  did  raise 

To  God  our  annual  song, 
And  now,  with  sweeter  strains  of  praise, 

We  would  those  notes  prolong. 

For  He  who  bids  the  seasons  roll, 

And  marks  their  onward  flight, 
Takes  knowledge  of  the  humble  soul, 

For  love  is  His  delight. 

And  round  our  path  the  Angel  band 

Clad  in  their  bright  array, 
Have  scattered  blessings  from  His  hand 

On  us  from  day  to  day. 

We  to  the  house  of  God  repair, 

To  learn  His  holy  will, 
And  teachers  kind  are  always  there 

With  truth  our  minds  to  fill. 

While  millions  of  our  youthful  race 

No  blessed  Sabbath  know, 

We  all  are  taught  that  Jesus'  grace 

Can  save  our  souls  from  wo. 
10 


218  A   NEW    YEAR'S    HYMN". 

Oh  God,  inspire  each  youthful  heart 
With  deep  devotion's  Same  ; 

Thy  saving  love  deign  to  impart. 
That  all  may  fear  Thy  name. 

And  now,  to  every  little  friend, 
We  ask  with  hearts  sincere, 

That  God  His  mercies  still  extend, 
And  grant  a  Happy  Year  ! 


A  XEVT  YEAR'S  HYMBT. 

Swiftly  as  the  eagle's  flight, 

Time's  revolving  wheels  have  sped ; 
Bearing  loved-ones  from  our  sight, 

To  the  chambers  of  the  dead. 
Could  we  draw  aside  the  veil, 

Bring  each  coming  scene  to  view ; 
Many  hearts  with  fear  would  quail, 

And  for  offered  mercy  sue. 

Death  we  know  is  in  the  land, 
All  must  feel  his  fatal  dart ; 

And  the  blow,  by  God"s  command, 
Soon  will  still  the  throbbing  heart. 


HIS    LOVE    WE    WILL    REMEMBER.  219 

Children — oft  the  opening  bud 

Soonest  feels  the  chilling  blast ; 
You  may  lie  beneath  the  sod — 

This  New  Year  may  be  your  last. 

Kindly  now  the  Saviour  stands, 

Pity  beaming  in  his  eye  ; 
Oh  !  there's  pardon  in  His  hand, 

He  for  you  did  freely  die. 
Let  not  teachers  plead  in  vain, 

Parents  o'er  thy  follies  grieve  ; 
But  repent,  and  peace  obtain, 

Come,  the  Saviour  now  receive. 


HIS  LOVE  WE  WILL  REMEMBER. 

The  cheerful  Spring  has  come  again, 

With  sunshine  and  with  flowers ; 
And  balmy  breezes  waft  the  strain 

Of  birds,  in  verdant  bowers. 
We  '11  emulate  their  songs  of  praise, 
And  here  our  grateful  voices  raise 
To  Him,  who  bids  the  rolling  spring, 
Its  thousand  new-born  pleasures  bring. 
His  love  we  will  remember. 


220  WE    HAVE    MET,    WITH    CHEERFUL    VOICES. 

Through  Summer's  heat,  and  Winter's  cold, 

To  school,  our  feet  have  brought  us ; 
To  join  the  Teachers  of  the  fold, 

Who  God's  own  truth  have  taught  us. 
They  've  told  us  of  a  Saviour's  love, 
And  pointed  to  that  land  above, 
WThere  Jesus  sits  with  smiling  face, 
And  bids  us  welcome  to  his  grace, 
His  love  we  will  remember. 

And  when  our  songs  on  earth  are  o'er, 

O  may  we  meet  in  glory ; 
And  sing  on  that  immortal  shore, 

Redemption's  wond'rous  story. 
There  we  '11  review  these  golden  hours, 
Where  Spring  is  robed  in  sweeter  flowers, 
And  with  our  grateful  Teachers  bend, 
In  love  to  Christ,  the  sinner's  friend, 
His  love  we  will  remember. 


WE  HAVE  MET,  WITH  CHEERFUL  VOICES. 

We  have  met,  with  cheerful  voices, 

On  this  happy  eve  again, 
And  with  love  each  heart  rejoices ; 

Sweet  has  been  our  pleasant  strain. 


WE   HAVE   MET,    WITH    CHEERFUL   VOICES.  221 

Now,  with  solemn  cadence  swelling, 

We  of  darker  scenes  will  tell ; 
Grief  has  veiled  the  lonely  dwelling, 

While  the  tears  of  anguish  fell. 

Zion's  faithful  ones  have  perished,* 
And  the  friend  of  Burmah  sleeps  :f 

Heaven  has  claimed  the  gem  we  cherished, 
But  our  soil  the  casket  keeps. 

Parents,  too,  with  spirits  broken, 
Over  their  crushed  blossoms  stood. 

When  the  heart's  deep  fount  was  opened 
By  that  providence  of  God. J 

Ah  !  how  sudden  was  their  exit 

To  the  cold  and  silent  grave ! 
Bowed  we  not,  with  humble  spirit, 

While  the  tears  our  cheeks  did  lave  1 

Lord !  for  early  death  prepare  us, 

Or  for  usefulness  below ; 
Then  to  heaven  may  angels  bear  us, 

Where  our  tears  shall  cease  to  flow. 


*  Several  of  our  church  members,  including  the  wife  of  the 
pastor,  Rev.  J.  R.  Stone,  and  Deacon  Samuel  Chappel,  have  de- 
parted during  the  year. 

f  Rev.  Wm.  T.  Biddle,  on  the  eve  of  sailing  for  Burmah. 

X  The  calamity  at  the  Greenwich  Avenue  School. 


222  ALTHOUGH    OUR    HAPPY    VOICES. 


ALTHOUGH  OUR  HAPPY  VOICES. 

Although  our  happy  voices 

Have  reached  the  heavenly  hill, 
And  every  heart  rejoices 

To  spread  Jehovah's  will, 
We  feel  that  notes  of  sorrow 

With  every  strain  should  blend — 
We  miss  the  fallen  scholar, 

We  miss  the  infant's  friend. 

Teachers  !  your  ranks  are  broken, 

And  brilliant  stars  are  gone, 
And  God  to  us  has  spoken — 

For  many  parents  mourn  : 
And  yet  the  whitened  harvest 

Invites  the  reaper's  hand, 
And  oh,  lest  souls  should  perish, 

As  faithful  teachers,  stand. 

Come  while  the  mind  is  lender, 

Ere  pleasures  fill  the  road, 
Teach  them  their  hearts  to  render 

A  sacrifice  to  God  ; 
That  we  may  all  before  him, 

Inspired  with  Jesus'  love, 
In  sweeter  songs  adore  Him 

Around  the  throne  above. 


ROSY   MAY.  223 


ROSY  3IAY. 


Yes,  again,  't  is  rosy  May, 

Come  our  youthful  hearts  to  cheer, 
Welcome,  then,  our  festive  day, 

Grateful  hearts  are  bowing  here. 
Nature  leaves  her  icy  thrall, 

Clothes  afresh  the  hill  and  dale, 
She  her  fragrance  breathes  on  all, 

Where  her  smiling  joys  prevail. 

So  within  this  happy  land 

Where  God's  blessed  Sabbaths  shine, 
Eesting  in  the  teacher's  hand 

Is  the  precious  book  divine. 
They  alike  to  all  impart 

Truths  His  holy  word  contain, 
Like  the  dew  upon  the  heart. 

Or  in  Spring,  the  genial  rain. 

And  when  we  to  summer  rise 

Here  to  fill  your  vacant  seats, 
Or  when  autumn  clouds  the  skies 

And  the  wintry  tempest  beats. 
We  to  others  then  may  tell 

Of  life's  happy,  cheerful  spring, 
And  our  hearts  with  rapture  swell, 

When  the  praise  of  God  we  sing. 


224  THE    SONG    OF    PRAISE. 

THE  SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 

Tune— Home.,  sweet  Home. 

We  love  when  the  blest  Sabbath  morning  has  come, 
With  bright  happy  faces  to  leave  our  dear  home, 
And  here  with  our  teachers  unitedly  raise 
With  glad  hearts  our  voices  to  Jesus  in  praise, 

School,  school,  sweet,  sweet  school, — 
We  love  our  kind  Teachers — we  love  our  dear  school ! 

We  love  our  dear  Teachers — we  '11  try  to  obey, 
They  teach  us  of  heaven,  and  point  us  the  way  ; 
They  tell  us  of  Jesus  who  came  from  above, 
And  died  to  redeem  us,  so  great  was  his  love ; 

School,  school,  sweet,  sweet  school — 
We  love  our  kind  Teachers — we  love  our  sweet  school. 


THE  SONG  OF  PRAISE. 

The  warm  breath  of  Spring  bids  the  flow'rets  appear, 
And  fill  with  their  perfumes  of  sweetness  the  air ; 
The  birds  of  the  forest  are  blithesome  and  gay, 
And  sweet  are  their  songs  on  the  dew-spangled  spray. 

And  we  who  have  met  on  this  bright  happy  eve, 
With  glad  hearts  and  voices  our  tribute  will  breathe, 
Of  grateful  hosannas  to  Jesus  our  King ; 
Oh  may  we  an  offering  acceptable  bring. 


we  're  a  band  of  children.  225 

Could  we  praise  Him  with  voices  as  sinless  as  they, 
The  heavens  should  echo  with  gladness  to-day, 
For  drops  of  His  mercy  and  tokens  of  grace, 
Both  Scholars  and  Teachers  have  shared  in  this  place. 

But  shall  we  not  praise  Him  ?  yes,  nations  must  hear 
The  song  of  Salvation  and  join  in  our  cheer, 
And  angels  with  rapture  shall  list  to  the  lays 
When  the  bright  hills  of  glory  re-echo  His  praise. 

May  pastor  and  parents  and  friends  all  unite 
In  songs  of  Redemption  in  mansions  of  light, 
Hosannas  to  Jesus  unceasingly  then, 
We  '11  sing  with  the  angels,  forever,  Amen. 


WE  'RE  A  BAND  OF  CHILDREN. 
Here  we  learn  of  God  and  heaven, 


How  our  sins  may  be  forgiven, 

Through  the  blood  of  Jesus  given 

For  the  dear  Infant  School. 

We  're  a  band,  a  band  of  children, 

We  're  a  band,  a  band  of  children, 

We  're  a  band,  a  band  of  children, 

And  we  love  the  Infant  School. 
10* 


LB : OTHER    YEAR. 

May  we  strive  by  good  behavior 
How  to  gain  the  love  and  favor 
Of  the  ever-blessed  Saviour, 
In  the  dear  Infant  School. 
We  're  a  band,  &c. 

If  our  hearts  we  give  to  Jesus, 
Then  when  death  from  sin  relieves  us, 
God  to  glory  will  receive  us 
From  the  dear  Infant  School. 
We  're  a  band,  &c. 


ANOTHER  YEAR. 


Another  year  has  passed  away, 

And  we  are  yet  alive, — 
Oh  let  us  raise  a  grateful  lay, 

To  Him  who  rules  the  skies. 

His  hand  each  blessing  has  bestow'd, 
By  Him  we  've  been  supplied, 

And  streams  of  healing  love  have  flow'd 
From  Jesus'  wounded  side. 

Come  then  and  humbly  seek  his  feet, 

Accept  of  proffer'd  grace  ; 
Children,  here  is  a  safe  retreat, 

The  Saviour  now  embrace. 


CHRIST    OUR   LIFE.  231 

Shall  God  wipe  off  the  tears 

Which  fill  my  raptured  eyes  ? 
And  I  surmount  the  gloomy  fears 

Which  now  obscure  my  skies  % 

Lord,  't  is  thy  blood  alone, 

Can  fit  me  for  that  place  ; 
I  bring  no  merit  of  my  own, 

But  plead  thy  sovereign  grace. 


CHRIST  OUR  LIFE. 


u  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life :  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father 
but  by  me."— John,  xiv.  6. 

I  am  the  Life,  the  Way, 

The  dear  Redeemer  said  ; 
From  God,  through  me  a  heavenly  ray 

Shall  light  the  path  you  tread. 

With  him  my  soul  would  seek, 

In  solitude  a  place ; 
And  with  my  Father  freely  speak, 

And  ask  for  daily  grace. 

Deep  sorrows,  too,  he  bore, 

And  shall  I  then  complain ; 
When  floods  arise,  and  tempests  roar, 

And  beat  my  feeble  frame  1 


232  THE    LAST    DAY. 

The  path  he  meekly  trod, 
With  zeal  may  I  pursue ; 

'Till  in  the  presence  of  my  God, 
His  glorious  face  I  view. 


THE  LAST  DAY. 


"  Behold  the  day  cometh  that  shall  burn  as  an  oven ;  and  all  the  proud,  yea, 
all  that  do  wickedly,  shall  be  stubble." — Malachi,  iv.  1. 

When  folded  in  one  mighty  blaze, 

Earth,  seas  and  skies  appear ; 
Sinner,  amidst  those  scorching  rays, 

No  hope  thy  soul  can  cheer. 

In  vain  for  shelter,  then  will  flee, 

The  wicked  and  the  proud; 
As  stubble  all  their  hopes  will  be, 

When  flames  the  world  enshroud. 

Once,  Jesus  filled  the  mercy  seat, 

And  kindly  bade  thee  come ; 
Now  robed  in  majesty  complete, 

He  seals  thy  awful  doom. 

But  closely  to  his  wounded  side, 

The  blood-bought  throng  He  '11  press, 

And  welcome  on  his  spotless  bride 
To  fields  of  endless  rest. 


PROPHETS  BY  FAITH  BEHELD  THE  DAY.      233 


CONTRITION. 

"  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit,  a  broken  and  contrite  heart,  O 
God,  thou  wilt  not  despise."— Psalm,  li.  17. 

The  God  of  glory  deigns  to  meet, 
The  contrite  soul  at  Jesus'  feet ; 
With  broken  spirit,  may  I  there, 
Oft  meet  my  God  in  solemn  prayer. 

May  I,  my  humble  off 'ring  bring, 
Perfumed  with  sorrow  to  my  King, 
And  find  my  sacrifice  ascend 
To  God,  through  Christ  the  sinner's  friend. 

In  his  atoning  blood  alone 

O  cleanse  my  prayers,  my  tears  and  groans ; 

And  daily  let  me  find  some  place, 

Where  thou  canst  show  thy  gracious  face. 


PROPHETS  BY  FAITH  BEHELD  THE  DAY. 

"I  will  put  ray  laws  into  their  mind,  and  write  them  in  their  hearts  ;  and 
will  be  to  them  a  God,  and  they  shall  be  to  me  a  people."— Heb.,  viii.  10. 

Prophets  by  faith  beheld  the  day, 

Which  God  for  us  designed  ; 
The  bleeding  victim  marked  their  way, 

But  we  the  cross  can  find. 


234  CHRIST    THE    SINNER**    SUBSTITUTE 

Oh  !  Lord,  thy  precepts  deeply  write 
With  love  urjon  our  hearts, 

That  we  may  taste  with  new  delight, 
The  bliss  thy  Law  imparts. 

So  thou,  our  God,  shalt  ever  be, 
Dispensing  light  divine ; 

Till  we.  thy  people,  rise  to  see, 
The  Lamb  in  glory  shine. 


CHRIST  THE  SINNER'S  SUBSTITUTE. 

'•  Who  gave  himself  for  us.  that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and 
purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good  works.'1— Titus,  ii.  l-L 

Christ  saw  the  sinner  stand 

Exposed  to  endless  wo  ; 
And  justice  did  command 
To  strike  the  fatal  blow ; 
He  stept  between  us  and  our  God, 
Received  the  blow,  and  spilt  his  blood. 

My  soul  adores  that  love 

So  boundless,  yet  so  free, 
Which  did  his  pity  move 
To  ransom  worms  like  me. 
Oh  !  may  my  life  to  others  tell, 
That  Jesus  saved  my  soul  from  hell. 


OUR    GLORY   LIKE    A    FLOWER.  235 

THE  LEPER. 

"Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean." — Matt.,  viii.  2. 

Methinks  before  the  Saviour's  feet, 

I  see  an  outcast  Leper  kneel ; 
And  there,  the  blessed  Lord  entreat, 

His  spotted  loathsome  flesh  to  heal. 

"  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst,"  he  cried, 
Compassion  filled  the  Saviour's  heart ; 

The  healing  word  was  soon  applied, — 
He  stood  released  from  all  his  smart. 

So  now.  dear  Saviour,  thou  canst  raise 

The  sin-polluted  downcast  soul ; 
Canst  turn  his  grief  to  songs  of  praise 

To  Him,  who  makes  the  sinner  whole. 


OUR  GLORY  LIKE  A  FLOWER. 

"  All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man  as  the  flower  of  grass.' 
1  Peter,  i.  24. 

Our  glory  like  a  flower, 

May  perish  with  a  breath  ; 
Our  lives  how  frail — a  flitting  hour, 

That  ends  in  silent  death. 


236  lord's-day  morning  hymn. 

Our  fondest  hopes  may  lie 
All  with'ring  on  the  ground, 

No  earthly  joy — but  blooms  to  die 
In  nature's  realm  is  found. 

But  in  yon  holy  land, 

No  bitter  tears  shall  rise  ; 

Disrobed  of  cares  our  souls  will  stand 
And  grasp  a  fadeless  prize. 


LORD'S-DAY  MORNING  HYMN. 

How  sweetly  beams  the  light 

Of  this,  God's  holy  day, 
Dispelling  all  the  shades  of  night 

With  an  effulgent  ray. 

So,  Lord,  illume  each  mind 
With  thy  enlivening  grace, 

That  every  care  may  be  resigned 
While  we  shall  seek  thy  face. 

Beside  no  tomb  we  stand, 
And  mourn  an  absent  Lord, 

Like  Mary  and  the  little  band, 
Who  loved,  and  Thee  adored. 


PRESENCE    OF    THE    LORD.  237 

But  to  thy  mercy  seat 

We  would  with  joy  repair 
Our  glorious  risen  Lord  to  meet 

Who  lives  to  answer  prayer. 

Jesus,  thy  name  be  blest 

For  this  sweet  day  of  thine, 
Emblem  of  that  eternal  rest 

Where  joys  are  all  divine. 


PRESENCE  OF  THE  LORD. 

"  And  the  Lord  went  before  them  by  day  in  a  pillar  of  a  cloud,  to  lead  them 
the  way." — Exod.  xiii.  21. 

When  Israel's  race  their  journey  took 

Up  to  the  promised  land, 
The  cloud  through  every  dale  and  nook 

Led  on  the  chosen  band. 

But  we  to  Canaan's  blest  abode 

No  cloud  are  left  to  trace  : 
God's  word  lights  up  the  narrow  road, 

With  beams  of  heavenly  grace. 

And  when  the  Saviour  left  the  grave 

And  sought  his  Father's  side, 
The  promised  Comforter  he  gave, 

Our  erring  hearts  to  guide. 


238  A   MORNING    HYMN. 

Faith,  too,  bestows  her  cheering  aid, 
And  looks  where  joys  endure ; 

For  he  whose  hope  on  God  is  stayed, 
Shall  find  the  promise  sure. 


A  MORNIXG  HYMN. 

The  bright  and  roseate  hues  of  morn 

Again  burst  on  our  sight, 
And  we,  O  Lord,  at  early  dawn, 

Would  bow  with  new  delight. 

We  laid  us  down  and  sweetly  slept, 
For  thou  did'st  us  sustain. 

And  round  our  bed  bright  angels  kept 
Their  nightly  watch  unseen. 

While  some  on  sorrow's  shoreless  sea 
By  tossing  waves  are  driven, 

We  feel  a  breeze  divine  from  thee, 
To  waft  us  on  to  heaven. 

Oh  !  Saviour,  grant  our  feet  to  guide 
In  wisdom's  cheering  way. 

And  lest  our  feeble  steps  should  slide, 
Help  us  to  watch  and  pray. 


A   HYMN    FOR    SOCIAL    WORSHIP.  239 


A  HYMN  FOR  SOCIAL  WORSHIP. 

Brethren,  leave  each  worldly  thought, 

Sisters  banish  every  care, 
Hither  Christ  your  feet  has  brought, 

Now  He  waits  to  answer  prayer. 
Come  in  faith,  approach  the  King, 

Lay  yourselves  at  his  dear  feet, 
All  your  tithes  and  offerings  bring, 

Jesus  here  your  souls  will  meet. 

He  will  bow  his  gracious  ear, 

He  will  listen  to  each  groan, 
And 'present  the  contrite  tear 

With  his  blood  before  the  throne. 
Though  we  oft  have  grieved  his  love, 

Torn  afresh  his  bleeding  heart, 
Yet  He  lives  to  plead  above, 

And  will  mercy  still  impart. 

We  his  image  here  should  bear 

Shedding  'round  a  holy  light, 
'Till  the  thoughtless  with  us  share 

Blessings  mingled  with  delight. 
Lord  cement  the  bond  of  peace, 

Bind  our  souls  more  close  to  thee, 
Bid  each  note  discordant  cease, 

Thou  our  guide  and  pattern  be. 


240  LOVE    OF    THE    SABBATH. 

LOVE  OF  THE  SABBATH. 

Tny  holy  Sabbaths,  Lord,  return — 
We  hail  the  dawn  with  joy, 

And  to  thy  courts  our  steps  we  turn, 
While  thanks  our  tongues  employ ; 

We  love  with  pardoned  souls  to  bring 

A  song  of  praise  to  Zion's  King. 

Lord,  when  we  bow  in  solemn  prayer, 
Do  thou  our  thoughts  control ; 

And  may  thy  Holy  Spirit  cheer 
And  bless  each  waiting  soul ; 

That  we  with  purer  hearts  may  bring 

Some  grateful  tribute  to  our  King. 

Thy  servants,  Lord,  with  zeal  inspire, 
To  tell  how  wondrous  love, 

Surpassing  all  our  vast  desire, 
Flows  from  thy  throne  above  ; 

And  from  thy  word,  O,  may  they  bring 

Some  kind  memorial  of  our  King  ! 

Thus  may  the  feast  so  freely  spread, 

So  ample,  so  complete, 
Induce  some  starving  soul  to  come, 

And  share  the  banquet  sweet ; 
That  ere  the  eve  its  shadows  bring, 
New  songs  may  rise  to  Zion's  King. 


COMMUNION    HYMN.  241 


PRAYER 


"  Because  he  hath  inclined  his  ear  unto  me,  therefore  will  I  call  upon  him 
as  long  as  I  live."— Psalm  cxvi.  2. 

Because  He  has  inclined  his  ear, 

And  listened  to  my  prayer  ; 
Before  his  throne  I  '11  still  appear, 

And  lay  my  burden  there* 

Long  as  I  live  some  lonely  spot, 

My  Bethel  here  shall  be ; 
Where  I  can  sit  in  solemn  thought, 

And  breathe  a  prayer  to  thee. 

And  yet  so  worthless,  Lord,  am  I, 

I  should  not  dare  to  plead, 
Did  not  the  blood  of  Calvary, 

For  sinners  intercede. 


COMMUNION  HYMN. 


"The  following  lines  were  composed  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  June  3,  1843,  and 
sung  by  the  church  (of  which  the  author  is  a  member)  on  the  following  day, 
at  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

Once  more  thy  favored  children  meet 

Around  thy  sacred  table,  Lord ; 

Refreshed,  the  broken  bread  they  eat, 

And  drink  the  emblem  of  thy  blood. 
11 


242  EVENING    HYMN. 

Oh  !  blessed  Spirit,  hover  round 

This  much-loved  spot — this  hallowed  place  ; 
And  may  each  heart  in  prayer  be  found, 

And  view  the  cross  Christ  did  embrace. 

Remember,  too,  beloved  friends, 

Your  heavenly  Father's  chast'ning  rod 

Is  felt  by  one,  whose  heart  expands 
With  love  to  you,  and  to  your  God. 

But  oh  !  the  cheering  thought  to  know, 
That  He  who  died  that  we  might  live, 

Whose  healing  blood  so  free  did  flow, 
Can  in  all  places  comfort  give. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

Great  God  thy  mercy  has  preserved 

Our  lives  another  day  ; 
Where'er  from  thee  our  hearts  have  swerved, 

Thy  pard'ning  love  display. 

The  morning  dawned  upon  our  eyes, 

We  left  our  beds  of  rest ; 
And  from  thy  board  with  full  supplies, 

Our  wants  have  been  redrest. 


"  KNOCK,  AND  IT  SHALL  BE  OPENED  UNTO  YOU."  243 

While  some  have  felt  oppression's  band, 

Hunger,  remorse  and  pain  ; 
We  from  thy  kind,  indulgent  hand 

Each  needed  good  obtain. 

Accept,  O  Lord,  our  thanks  of  praise, 

While  lowly  at  thy  feet : 
Our  grateful  hearts  to  thee  we  raise, 

And  mercy  still  entreat. 


"KNOCK,  AND  IT  SHALL  BE  OPENED  UNTO  YOU." 

"  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall 
be  opened  unto  you."— Matt.  vii.  7. 

Knock  ye  at  the  narrow  gate, 

Mercy  stands  with  list'ning  ear. 
Agonizing  prayer  repeat ; 

Jesus  will  at  length  appear. 
He  will  wipe  the  gushing  tears, 

He  will  raise  the  contrite  soul, 
Cleanse  your  heart,  remove  your  fears, 

Make  your  wounded  spirit  whole. 

Christians,  are  your  souls  oppressed  ! 

Come  in  faith  to  mercy's  door, 
He,  who  gave  thy  bosom  rest, 

Seas  can  calm  and  peace  restore. 


[ 


244  THIRSTING    FOR    GOD. 

Angels  soon  with  swifter  wing, 
Will  our  spirits  waft  above  ; 

Then  the  conqueror's  song  we  '11  sing 
On  the  shores  of  boundless  love. 


THIRSTING  FOR  GOD. 

"  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee, 
O  God.  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God :  when  shall  I  appear 
before  God?"— Psalm  xlii.  1,  2. 

As  from  the  rugged  thorny  hill, 

The  bounding  hart  each  nerve  expands ; 

And  panting  seeks  the  cooling  rill, 

That  flows -amidst  the  scorching  sands; 


So  I,  my  God,  would  pant  for  thee, 

While  through  this  land  of  doubt  I  roam ; 

So  would  I  drink  that  stream  so  free, 
That  rises  from  thy  Holy  throne. 

Oh  may  I  with  the  Psalmist's  zeal, 

In  holy  fervor  weep  and  pray  : 
Thirst  for  my  Saviour's  love,  and  feel 

His  rod  and  staff  to  cheer  my  way  ; 

Till  I  before  his  face  appear, 

On  the  bright  plains,  in  realms  above; 
And  from  the  fountain  full  and  clear, 

Drink  deep  the  joys  of  endless  love. 


THE   JUDGMENT.  245 


JESUS  HIS  FLOCK  TO  GLORY  LEADS. 

"  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures;  he  leadeth  me  beside  the 
still  waters."— Psalm  xxiii.  2. 

Jesus  his  flock  to  glory  leads, 

Through  pastures  green  and  flow'ry  meads  ; 

And  from  the  waters  clear  and  still, 

The  thirsty  soul  he  deigns  to  fill. 

May  I,  the  Shepherd's  voice  obey, 
Nor  tire  amidst  the  heavenly  way  ; 
But  press  with  vigor  on  the  road, 
Till  safe  within  the  fold  of  God. 

Then  I,  from  him,  no  more  will  rove, 
Nor  grieve  the  object  of  my  love  ; 
But  from  the  fountain  purer  still, 
My  soul  with  rapture  ever  fill. 


THE  JUDGMENT. 

For  we  must  all  appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ."— 2  Cor.  v.  10. 

Before  thy  judgment  seat,  O  Lord, 

We  shortly  must  appear  ; 
And  there  be  judged  by  thy  bless'd  word, 

While  men  and  angels  hear. 


246  god's  love  for  the  sinner. 

There  we  no  secret-place  shall  find, 
To  hide  us  from  the  Lamb ; 

But  close  to  the  Eternal  mind, 
Our  naked  souls  must  stand. 

Each  word,  and  act,  and  every  thought 

"Will  then  rewarded  be ; 
And  those,  who  ne'er  have  Jesus  sought 

Must  sink  in  misery. 

May  Christ  our  Advocate  be  there, 
With  robes  of  peace  and  love  ; 

And  smiling  bid  us  with  him  share, 
A  glorious  rest  above. 


GOD'S  LOYE  FOR  THE  SIXNER. 

■  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his 
Son  to  be  a  propitiation  for  our  sins."— 1  John,  iv.  10. 

Oh,  what  love  to  us  was  shown, 

When  the  Father  freely  gave, 
His  beloved,  his  darling  son, 

Hell-deserving  souls  to  save. 

When  we  trod  the  road  to  death, 
Mercy  whispered,  turn  and  live ; 

Love  attended  every  breath, 
Christ  was  ready  to  receive. 


THE    LORD    OUR    REFUGE.  247 

Shall  not  we,  in  meekness  lie 

All  submissive  at  his  feet ; 
Give  our  hearts,  ourselves  away 

To  our  God  an  off 'ring  meet. 

Lord,  let  grateful  incense  rise, 

From  our  inmost  soul  to  thee  : 
'Till  with  angels  in  the  skies, 

We,  unveiled  thy  glories  see. 


THE  LORD  OUR  REFUGE. 

"  He  only  is  my  Rock  and  my  Salvation :  he  is  my  defence  ;  I  shall  not 
moved."— Psalm  lxii.  6. 

The  Lord,  a  sure  refuge  will  stand, 
For  all  the  dear  lambs  of  the  flock  ; 

The  feeble,  who  trust  his  command, 
Are  safe  in  the  cleft  of  the  Rock. 

His  love  will  encompass  their  path. 

And  daily  his  grace  he  '11  bestow ; 
For  mercies  are  new  every  breath, 

To  pilgrims  who  wander  below. 

When  sorrow's  deep  waters  arise, 
And  tempests  break  over  the  soul, 

His  hand  He  '11  extend  from  the  skies 
And  calm  the  dread  billows  that  roll. 


248 


THE    TRIALS    OF    8AINTS. 


Blest  angels  will  hover  around 

Till  Jesus  shall  give  the  command ; 

To  take  us  where  pleasures  abound, 
In  Canaan* s  bright  happy  land. 


THE  TRIALS  OF  SAINTS. 

l-  We  must  through  much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God." 
A  •!-.  xiv.  22. 

The  apostles  and  martyrs  through  sorrow's  dark  flood, 
Went  up  to  the  mansions  prepared  them  by  God. 
From  the  foes  of  the  Lord  to  the  mountains  they  fled, 
And  in  its  deep  caverns  they  made  their  cold  bed. 

How  sweet  is  the  rest  of  the  saint  in  the  skies, 
Whose  spirit  from  torture  and  flames  did  arise  ; 
And  soft  is  that  bosom  on  which  they  repose, 
Where  each  wave  of  glory  new  beauties  disclose. 

All,  all  that  will  follow  most  closely  their  God, 
Shall  meet  persecution,  and  oft  feel  the  rod  ; 
The  tempter  is  watching  each  transport  of  joy, 
With  sins  most  besetting  their  peace  to  destroy. 

But  let  us  not  linger  nor  faint  by  the  way, 

Our  Jesus  is  with  us,  his  arm  is  our  stay  ; 

We  '11  on.  then,  though  Jordan's  cold  billows  may  roar, 

He  '11  bear  us  to  glory,  when  conflicts  are  o'er. 


MAY   I   ATTAIN    THAT    REST.  249 

THE  MERCIES  OF  GOD. 

"  Great  are  thy  tender  mercies,  O  Lord."— Psalm  cxix.  156. 

Thy  tender  mercies,  Lord,  how  great, 

Well  might  the  Psalmist  say  ; 
So  all,  who  on  their  God  shall  wait, 

May  find,  from  day  to  day, 

Sweet  tokens  of  refreshing  grace, 

Flow  gently  from  thy  throne  ; 
The  humble  soul  each  good  can  trace, 

To  Jesus''  blood  alone. 

But  who  can  count  thy  mercies  o'er, 

Or  tell  how  vast  thy  love ; 
Our  finite  minds  pause  and  adore, 

The  unfathomed  fount  above. 


MAY  I  ATTAIN  THAT  EEST. 

"And  there  shall  be  no  more  curse;  but  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb 
shall  be  in  it,  and  his  servants  shall  serve  him,  and  see  his  face,  and  his  name 
shall  be  in  their  foreheads." — Rev.  xxii.  3,  4. 

Sin's  dreadful  curse  shall  never  come, 

Within  that  holy  place ; 
Where  God,  all-glorious,  fills  the  throne, 

And  shines  through  Jesus'  face. 
11* 


250  CHRISES    SUBMISSION. 

There,  all  his  faithful  servants  meet, 
Whose  foreheads  bear  his  name, 

And  join  the  song  divinely  sweet, 
All  glory  to  the  Lamb. 

O  Lord,  may  I  attain  that  rest, 
And  mid  on  entering  there, 

Some  humble  mansion  with  the  blest, 
Which  Jesus  did  prepare. 


CHRIST'S  SUBMISSION. 

"  When  Jesus  had  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  he  said.  Father,  into  thy  hands  I 
commend  my  spirit ;  and  having  said  thus.  He  gave  up  the  ghost.'?— Luke, 
xxiii.  46. 

When  in  deep  anguish  on  the  cross, 

The  Saviour  groaned  and  bled, 
To  heaven  He  raised  his  dying  voice, 

Then  bowed  his  willing  head. 

Father,  into  thy  blessed  hands 

My  spirit  I  commend, 
My  blood  henceforth  for  pardon  stands, 

And  I  the  sinner's  friend. 

Thus  pressed  beneath  the  weight  of  sin, 

Its  dreadful  curse  He  bore  ; 
That  rebels  He  to  God  might  win, 

And  peace  to  men  restore. 


BARTIMEUS.  251 

Keen  Justice  had  its  full  demand, 

Mercy  looked  down  and  smiled  ; 
The  contrite  soul  with  God  now  stands, 

Through  Jesus  reconciled. 

Oh  may  I,  at  the  gate  of  death, 

All  washed  in  that  dear  blood, 
Resign  with  joy  my  mortal  breath, 

And  take  my  flight  to  God. 


BARTIMEUS. 


Once  sitting  by  the  highway  side, 
From  early  dawn  'till  eventide, 

For  alms  a  beggar  sought : 
But  oft  the  stranger  passed  him  by, 
Or  listened  to  his  pleading  cry, 

Then  hurried  from  the  spot. 

But  when  he  heard  the  passing  crowd 

And  learned  that  Christ  was  there,  he  bowed 

And  thus  in  fervor  prayed  : 
Thou  Son  of  David  pity  me, 
Thou,  who  canst  cause  the  blind  to  see, 

Oh !  grant  restoring  aid. 


252  BARTIMK 

Helpless  and  blind,  no  friends,  no  home, 
And  few  that  heed  my  piteous  moan, 

I  here  in  sorrow  stay. 
Those  notes  of  anguish  reached  his  ear — 
He  sees  his  grief,  beholds  the  tear. 

And  bids  him  come  away. 

By  faith  he  saw — he  wept,  he  praised, 
And  on  that  lovely  being  gazed, 

Whose  love  had  filled  his  heart ; 
Oh,  doubly  blest !  said  he,  am  I, 
My  night  is  gone,  my  sins  passed  by, 

I  feel  no  inward  smart. 

I  '11  publish  now  thy  name  abroad, 
That  all  the  blind  may  seek  my  Lord, 

And  feel  his  pardoning  love. 
I  '11  follow  Christ,  he  is  the  ivai/. 
His  arm,  henceforth,  shall  be  my  stay, 

"Till  I  ascend  above. 


C  e  m  jr 1  x  a  it  jt  *  ♦ 


THE    TIMELY    VISIT; 

OR,    THE    PRAYING    CHILD. 

Within  a  cellar  dark  and  drear, 
A  child,  in  rags,  was  lying  ; 

I  asked  why  she  alone  was  here, 
And  why  she  thus  was  crying. 

The  voice  of  kindness  reached  her  heart 
She  rose  and  said  most  sweetly  : 

"  Ah !  sir,  these  bitter  tears  will  start, 
For  drunken  father  beats  me  !" 

I  wiped  her  eyes,  supplied  her  wants, 
And  told  her  not  to  sorrow  ; 

I  'd  seek  her  father,  and  perchance, 
Would  call  again  to-morrow. 

I  found  him,  and  with  many  a  tear, 

I  pictured  out  his  ruin ; 
I  told  him  of  his  little  dear, 

W^hose  prayers  were  him  pursuing. 


254  THE    DRUNKARD    AND    HIS    BIBLE. 

With  trembling  hand  the  pledge  he  took, 
And  from  the  grog-shop  started  ; 

He  thanked  me  with  a  solemn  look, 
When  at  the  door  we  parted. 

I  called  again,  but  weeks  had  passed ; 

The  child  with  smiles  did  greet  me  ; 
"  What  brings  this  change  V  I  meekly  asked- 

She  said,  "  Pa,  kindly  treats  me. 

"  I  'm  happy  now ;  he  toils  all  day ; 

At  night  be  comes  to  hold  me  ; 
I  never  ceased  for  him  to  pray, 

As  dying  mother  told  me." 


THE  DRUNKARD  AND  HIS  BIBLE. 

This  Book  !  the  only  thing  that  now  remains 
Of  her  I  once  so  fondly,  dearly  loved. 
My  tender  mother  gave  it  her,  when  first 
I  brought  her  to  my  own  dear,  happy  home. 
With  sad  and  broken  hearts,  long  since  they  fell, 
And  in  the  silent  tomb  have  found  repose. 
This  Book  !  I  want  it  not.     Of  joys  long  past, 
I  '11  think  no  more.     It  drives  me  to  despair — 
To  madness.     Yes,  my  very  soul  is  parched 


THE  CHILD  AND  THE  FLOWERS.  255 

With  that  tormenting  thirst  which  drives  me  on, 

To  seek  relief  within  the  dead'ning  cup. 

I  want  the  Lethean  draught  to  quell 

Those  sad  tormenting  thoughts  that  rack  my  brain, 

And  swells  the  burning  tide  that  rushes  now, 

As  with  the  lightning's  speed  through  every  vein. 

This  Bible  !  ah  !  I  want  it  not.     Each  page 

In  burning  language  breathes  mv  condemnation, 

And  my  helpless,  hopeless  doom  foretells. 

Friends  have  I  none.     I  none  deserve.     I  'm  scoffed, 

And  hooted  e'en  by  those  who  scarce  my  name 

Can  speak.     Black  darkness  like  a  midnight  pall 

Is  spread  around  my  feet.     No  ray  of  hope 

Can  intervene,  to  change  my  woful  case. 

This  Book  !  I  want  it  not.     I  '11  give  it  then 

For  one  more  dram  to  hide  from  me  the  past, 

And  shut  my  future  doom,  with  all  its  train 

Of  bitter  curses  from  my  fearful  sight. 


THE  CHILD  AND  THE  FLOWERS. 

A  girl,  who  met  in  the  grove  her  father  returning  from  the  dram-shop. 

"  What  brings  you  to  the  forest  wild, 

So  early,  little  Miss  1 
The  morning  sun  has  scarcely  smiled, 

In  woods  so  drear  as  this." 


256  THE    CHILD    AND    THE    FLOWERS. 

"  Papa,"  said  she,  "  my  brother  's  sick, 

And  mother  weary  grows  ; 
So  I  have  come,  that  I  might  pick 

The  early  sweet  primrose." 

"  'T  is  right,  my  child,"  said  he,  ;'  to  cheer 
Thy  brother's  aching  heart ; 

Their  fragrance,  too,  may  dry  the  tear, 
That  pain  has  caused  to  start." 

"  But  brother  will  not  mind  the  flowers," 

Said  she,  "  he  is  too  ill ; 
Nor  I,  papa,  the  early  hour, 

If  I,  my  basket  fill. 

"  They  '11  buy  for  him  some  healing  drink, 

To  cool  his  feverish  lip ; 
Then  with  me  to  the  river's  brink 

Again  with  joy  he  '11  trip. 

"  I  feared  that  Willie,  dear,  would  die, 
And  sleep  in  the  cold  grave ; 

But  mother  said,  these  flowers  might  buy 
Something,  his  life  to  save." 

"  Dear  child,  thy  father  never  can 

Such  tender  love  repay. 
Henceforth,  I  '11  strive  to  be  a  man, 

And  from  the  dram-shop  stay. 


GROG-SHOPS    AND    DISTILLERIES. 

"I  '11  breathe  upon  thy  mother's  heart 
This  day,  the  Temperance  vow  ; 

And  never  cause  again  to  start 
The  tears  to  cloud  her  brow." 


"  Come,  papa,  seal  with  one  sweet  kiss 

That  vow  upon  my  cheek  ! 
Our  home  once  more  shall  all  be  bliss, 

My  joys  I  cannot  speak." 


257 


GROG-SHOPS  AND  DISTILLERIES. 

Tune — "  Bonny  DoonP 

Ye  grog-shops  and  distill'ries,  too, 

Long  have  you  been  a  curse  to  man  ; 
You  dealt  your  poison  out,  and  wo 

Has  followed  with  a  dreadful  hand. 
The  rich  ye  've  robb'd  of  all  their  gold  ; 

The  proud  have  tottered  from  their  seat ; 
And  in  the  sinks  of  vice  behold, 

What  degradation  do  we  meet. 

Down  to  the  shades  of  endless  death  ! 

Sad  millions  roll  in  deep  despair ; 
The  orphan's  tears,  the  widow's  breath, 

In  vain  have  plead,  in  vain  their  prayer. 


258  the  drunkard's  death. 

But,  oh!  a  star  hath  brightly  rose, 

And  thousands  from  thy  power  have  broke; 

Glad  heart!  hive  smiled,  forgot  their  woes, 
As  kindred  souls,  to  reason  'woke. 

Thy  reign  of  terror  soon  will  cease — 

Columbia's  daughters  sing  for  joy  : 
The  temperance  pledge  shall  give  us  peace ; 

The  monster's  hold  it  shall  destroy. 
And  Mercy,  stooping  from  above, 

Shall  shed  around  her  heavenly  rays ; 
Where  happy  beings  bow  in  love, 

To  offer  solemn  pray'r  and  praise. 


THE  DErXKARD'S  DEATH. 

It  was  midnight.     The  song  profane  was  hush'd- 
The  bitter  curses  for  a  moment  ceased, 
And  from  the  dram-shop  rudely  rushed  a  gang 
Of  poor  inebriates.     The  creaking  door 
Was  harshly  closed,  and  in  the  solemn  gloom 
And  pall  of  night,  with  feeble,  talt'ring  steps, 
They  sallied  forth.     One — once  the  gayest 
Of  the  gay — now,  had  not  where  to  rest  him, 
Or  where  to  lay  his  trembling,  aching  head. 


THE    DRUNKARD'S    DEATH.  269 

The  gentle  being  whom  he  once  did  love, 
And  proudly  called  his  own,  dear,  happy  wife, 
Had  calmly  borne  his  taunts  and  scorn,  till  want 
Had  driv'n  her,  with  a  sad  and  broken  heart, 
To  seek  a  home  far  in  the  western  wilds, 
Beneath  a  father's  roof,  where  she,  and  those, 
Her  helpless  babes,  might  have  their  daily  bread. 

That  night  he  found  repose — if  drunkards  sleep — 
Where  stood  the  noble  steed,  and  fearless  fed. 
Perhaps  he  dreamed  of  brighter,  happier  days, 
And  saw  his  little  ones  approach  his  bed, 
And  heard  them  softly  whisper  "  My  father." 
But  ah  !  no  tender  hand  was  with  him  there, 
To  aid  him  in  his  exit  from  the  stall. 
Alone  he  stood  !     Alone  he  fell !  and  there, 
By  stiffened,  palsied  feet,  he  hung,  and  died. 

Oh !  who  could  see  a  noble  being  thus 
Brought  down  to  death,  with  heart  unmoved ! 
Replete  with  sorrow  is  the  drunkard's  life — 
Remorse  and  anguish,  like  the  gnawing  worm, 
Upon  his  conscience  preys,  and  draws  him  on 
To  ruin,  and  the  land  of  death. 

But  who  2 
Oh !  who  would  ask  the  recompense  of  him 
"Who  hourly  stands,  and  pours  the  poison  out, 
To  swell  the  tide  of  mis'ry  that  o'erwhelms 
Our  lovely  earth,  and  in  the  shades  of  wo 
Shuts  ever  up  the  naked,  deathless  soul ! 


260  THE    RUMSELLER    RECOGNIZED. 

THE  RUMSELLER  RECOGNIZED. 

Stretched  on  a  hard  and  tattered  bed, 

A  dying  man  in  anguish  lay, 
No  pillow  bore  his  aching  head. 

While  thus  he  breathed  his  life  away. 

The  ever-fearful  mad'ning  dreams 

That  haunt  the  drunkard's  burning  brain, 

With  pallid  ghost  and  fiery  fiends, 
Appeared  with  all  their  frightful  train. 

The  voice  of  her,  his  tender  wife, 

His  heart  once  filled  with  throbs  of  joy  ; 

And  dearer,  too,  than  his  own  life, 
Once  stood  his  darling,  prattling  boy. 

But  now,  alas,  no  soothing  tone 

Can  reach  that  hopeless,  sinking  heart ; 

With  tearless  eye  and  sad'ning  moan, 
His  spirit  must  from  hence  depart. 

But  stop — the  voice  of  one  that  filled 

For  him  so  oft  the  fatal  cup, 
Has  through  his  dying  spirit  thrilled, 

And  broke  his  heavy  slumber  up, 

And  dost  thou  know  me,  then,  he  said, 
And  neared  his  paltry  shaking  cot — 

Know  thee  !  the  dying  man  replied  ; 

Know  thee  !  ah,  Sir,  why  know  thee  not. 


THE    APPEAL    OF    LITTLE    ALICE.  261 

And  these,  my  wife  and  weeping  child 
Will  know  thee,  too,  when  I  am  dead ! 

Said  he — and  raved  in  accents  wild, 
Then  lifeless  sank  upon  his  bed. 


THE  APPEAL  OF  LITTLE  ALICE. 

I  had  a  tender  father,  when 

I  was  a  prattling  child ; 
And  mother  seemed  so  happy  then, 

She  ever  sweetly  smiled. 

But,  oh !  the  night  of  sorrow  came, 

And  father  sterner  grew, — 
The  drunkard's  curse — the  drunkard's  shame, 

Around  its  terrors  threw. 

My  gentle  mother  pined  away, 

And  paler  grew  her  cheek ; 
And  when  she  knelt  with  me  to  pray, 

Her  voice  was  faint  and  weak. 

Hungry  and  cold,  I  sought  for  aid, 
And  stemmed  the  chilling  blast ; 

But  "  she's  a  drunkard's  girl,"  they  said, 
E'en  when  my  tears  fell  fast. 


262 


Poor  mother's  throbbing  heart  was  stilled, 

When  I  rehearsed  my  woe ; 
And  oh !  such  grief  my  boson  thrilled, 

As  orphans  only  know. 

They  laid  her  in  the  cold,  cold  grave, 

And  I  am  left  alone ! 
Oh  !  who  the  drunkard's  girl  will  save, 

And  give  a  happy  home  ? 


THE  CHILD'S  APPEAL. 

Stop,  father  !  stay  that  heavy  hand, 

Strike  not  another  blow ; 
Poor  mother's  heart  I  fear  't  will  break, 

She  weeps  and  trembles  so. 

Father,  I  know  she  loves  you,  too, 

For  oft  I  've  heard  her  say, 
That  you  no  unkind  act  would  do, 

'Till  rum  led  you  astray. 

And  oft  I  've  heard  dear  mother  praj 
That  God  would  you  forgive, 

And  place  you  in  the  better  way, 
That  you  in  heaven  might  live. 


A   VOICE    FROM    THE    GRAVE    OF   A    SUICIDE.  263 

My  feeble  hand  oft  wipes  the  tear 
That  steals  down  mother's  cheek ; 

I  know  she  's  hungry,  and  I  fear 
My  wants  aloud  to  speak. 

Then  I  to  some  lone  spot  repair, 

And  bow  at  His  dear  feet, 
Who  makes  such  little  ones  his  care, 

And  gives  them  bread  to  eat. 

Come,  father,  dash  that  fatal  cup, 

Taste  not  another  drop, — 
Come  !  rouse  thy  tender  feelings  up, 

That  mother's  tears  may  stop. 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  GRAVE  OF  A  SUICIDE. 

The  following  lines  were  suggested  by  the  fact  that,  but  a  short  time  since, 
a  man  committed  suicide  while  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  which  he  pur- 
chased from  his  own  brother,  who  persisted  in  selling  it  to  him,  after  the  ear- 
nest and  repeated  entreaties  of  his  neighbors  that  he  would  not  do  so  ;  and  to 
which  he  replied,  in  the  strung  argument  of  the  Rumseller — "  I  have  a  right 
to  sell,  him  liquor,  and  will  continue  to  as  long  as  he  has  three  cents  to  pay  for 
it." 

What  sound  is  this,  so  doleful  and  so  sad, 
That  rises,  as  it  were,  beneath  my  feet  % 
My  very  blood  seems  curdled  in  my  veins ; 
Methinks  I  hear  the  wailing  of  the  dead, 
Whose  body  lies  beneath  the  damp,  cold  sod. 


2G4         A   VOICE  from   the  grave  of  a   suicide. 

'T  is  here  the  manly  form,  brought  down  to  death 
By  cruel  hands,  in  vain  has  sought  repose. 
True,  he  did  break  the  thread  ere  life  its  own 
Short  span  had  run :  but  list  with  me  awhile. 
And  hear  his  own  heart-rending,  fearful  tale : — 
-  Ah  !  brother,  why  didst  thou  not  pity  me, 
And  hold  my  body  back  from  sin  and  shame, 
My  soul  from  ruin  and  eternal  death  ? 
My  weakness  and  my  frailty  thou  didst  know — 
I  might  have  dashed  the  fatal,  mad'ning  cup, 
Had  't  not  been  proffered  by  a  brother's  hand. 
My  early  friend — companion  of  my  youth. 
My  tender  wife,  with  smitten,  bleeding  heart, 
And  helpless  babes,  widowed  and  fatherly — - 
I  was  a  brute,  a  demon,  in  their  sight : 
I  robbed  them  of  their  joys — home  of  its  bliss  ; 
My  very  presence  cast  a  gloom  around. 
Not  all  their  tears  and  prayers  could  me  induce 
To  turn  and  seek  the  healing  stream,  while  there 
My  brother  stood,  and  poured  the  poison  forth. 
Erernity !  thy  countless  years  may  tell 
In  vain,  the  height  and  depth  of  all  my  woe — 
Remorse  my  burning  soul  each  moment  stings  ; 
Po Anting  to  yonder  world,  it  harrows  up 

b  heinous,  mad'ning  scene,  and  plunges  me 
Still  deeper  in  this  -        f  shore] 
Whose  waves  of  darkness  and  despair  proclaim. 
In  ever-fearful,  awful  soui. 

ThT  SIXS  !   THT  SINS.  HAVE  JUSTLY  FIXED  THEE  HERE  !'? 
15±7. 


the  drunkard's  SON.  265 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  SON. 

Speak  kindly  to  the  drunkard's  son, 

He  may  a  manly  heart, 
Beneath  his  tattered  garments  own, 

That  scorns  his  father's  part. 
He  may  beside  his  mother's  knee, 

Ask  daily  from  above  ; 
That  God  would  help  him  here  to  flee, 

The  cup  his  sire  doth  love. 

Deal  gently  with  the  drunkard's  son ; 

He  much  of  sorrow  knows  ; 
With  taunts,  his  bosom  may  be  wrung, 

Till  tears  his  vision  close. 
And  oft  his  father's  cruel  hand, 

Inflicts  the  heavy  blow  ; 
His  case  your  sympathies  demand  ; 

Then  add  not  to  his  woe. 

Encourage  oft  the  drunkard's  son, 

Inspire  his  heart  with  hope  ; 
Tell  him  that  honor  may  be  won, 

Thou  now,  his  way  he  grope. 
On  through  temptation's  withering  blast, 

He  yet  may  stand  in  pride, 
Above  the  lordly  son  who  passed, 

So  scornful  from  his  side. 
12 


266  OH    TAKE    THE    PLEDGE. 

"  Mother.  1  am  called  a  drunkard's  son  !" 

Once  said  a  weeping  boy, 
"  And  I  "m  resolved  to  leave  my  home, 

I  have  so  little  joy  ; 
These  cruel  taunts  my  bleeding  heart, 

In  silence  cannot  1 
I  '11  dash  these  tears,  and  soon  will  start, 

To  seek  a  home  elsewhere." 

"  And  leave  your  mother,"  she  replied, 

The  chord  of  love  was  moved  ; 
He  fell  upon  her  neck  and  cried. 

••  Thy  tender  voice  I  "ve  loved. 
It  has  a  power  to  give  relief; 

"When  stranger  hearts  have  none, 
I  "11  stay  and  share  with  thee,  thy  grief, 

Nor  leave  thee  here  alone." 
1849. 


OH  TAKE  THE  PLEDGE. 

Air — ^.luld  lang  sync." 

Oh  take  the  pledge  and  faithful  be, 
And  may  the  plighted  vow 

Be  sacred  held  in  after  y< 

And  warmly  breathed  as  now. 


A   FIRM    RESOLVE.  267 

Remember,  't  is  no  slender  tie 

That  binds  th'  inebriate's  heart, 
And  reason  must  that  power  defy, 

Come  let  her  act  her  part. 

The  peace,  the  joy  of  temperate  hours 

The  home  of  happy  cheer, 
May  soon  be  thine,  nor  demons  lower 

To  haunt  with  deadly  fear. 

Then  take  the  pledge,  and  may  time's  flight 

Mark  only  joy's  increase, 
And  may  your  days  pass  sweetly  bright, 

In  happiness  and  peace. 


A  FIEM  RESOLVE. 

Tcne — "  I  would  not  live  alway?"1 

I  will  not  drink  alway  :  no,  ere  I  depart, 
I  '11  dash  the  vile  cup  that  has  madden'd  my  heart : 
O'er  the  Past,  may  Oblivion  throw  her  dark  pall, 
And  Hope  cheer  me  onward  from  Alcohol's  thrall. 

I  will  not  drink  alway ;  the  craving  within, 
Which  fetter'd  me  closely  to  sorrow  and  sin, 
No  more  shall  enslave  me,  from  bondage  I  '11  flee, 
And  drain  with  thanksgiving  the  cup  of  the  free. 


268 


TITE    STAR    OF    TEMPERANCE. 


I  will  not  drink  alway ;  my  children  no  more 
Shall  eat  the  cold  morsel  they  crave  from  each  door ; 
Their  heart-broken  mother  no  more  shall  despair, 
But  breathe  with  more  fervor  to  Heaven  her  prayer. 

Oh,  who  would  drink  alway  ;  the  brain  mad'ning  bowl, 
Destruction,  and  mis'ry,  and  death,  to  the  soul ; 
Who  then  will  not  pledge  from  this  monster  to  flee, 
And  drink  from  the  fountain  that  sparkles  so  free. 


THE  STAR  OF  TEMPERANCE. 

Air — "  The  bright  rosy  morning  peeps  over  the  hills." 

The  bright  star  of  Temp'rance  shines  full  o'er  the  land, 
Diffusing  its  blessings,  with  Mercy's  kind  hand  ; 
While  the  happy,  happy  pledge,  calls,  O  !  come,  come 

away  ! 
Awake  from  your  slumbers,  and  hail  the  glad  day. 

Our  cause  it  shall  triumph !  o'er  the  land  and  the  seas, 
The  dove  and  the  olive  shall  float  in  each  breeze ; 
Then  gaily  let  us  follow,  follow  the  sweet  temp'rance 

sound, 
"Where  pleasure,  and  vigor,  and  health  are  all  found. 


THE    STAR    OF    TEMPERANCE.  269 

Opposers  are  yielding,  the  conquest  is  ours ! 
The  hydra  stands  reeling,  bereft  of  its  powers ! 
Then  here  let  us,  let  us  all  enjoy  from  the  fount, 
The  heart-cheering  bev'rage,  all  care  to  surmount. 


a  s  1 0  x  a  I 


DEDICATION"  HYMN. 

SUNG    AT    THE    DEDICATION    OF    THE    FIRST   BAPTIST    CHURCH    IN 
NEW    MEXICO. 

Oh  !  Lord,  the  happy  hour  has  come, 
Which  we  have  longed  to  see  ; 

And  now  within  this  sacred  dome, 
Our  praise  ascends  to  Thee. 

Jesus,  how  charming  is  the  place, 

The  courts  of  thy  abode  ; 
Come  show  us  now  thy  smiling  face, 

And  here,  thy  name  record. 

Dear  Saviour,  may  thy  precious  word, 

In  all  its  beauties  shine  ; 
And  sinners  haste  to  meet  the  Lord, 

And  own  his  power  divine. 

Oh  !  may  these  flow'ry  plains  rejoice, 

And  bless  the  happy  day  ; 
Which  bids  us  elevate  the  cross, 

And  Jesus'  love  display. 


272  the  pastor's  farewell. 

Breathe,  Holy  Spirit,  light  of  love, 
On  this  benighted  land ; 

'Till  Christ  his  majesty  shall  prove, 
And  King  of  nations  stand.. 


THE  PASTOR'S  FAREWELL. 

To  thee,  dear  pastor,  when  away 
From  us,  thy  weary  feet  are  led, 

Our  thoughts  will  turn,  and  we  will  pray 
That  on  thy  soul  rich  grace  be  shed. 

The  bitter  tears  of  sorrow  rise 

From  fountains  deep  within  the  heart, 

To  heaven  we  lift  our  weeping  eyes, 
Submissive,  yet  reluctant  part. 

Dear  under-shepherd  of  the  flock, 
How  gently  hast  thou  led  us  on, 

Through  pastures  rich,  to  Christ  the  Rock, 
And  bid  us  build  our  hopes  thereon. 

And  now,  we  take  "  the  parting  hand," 
God  bless  thee,  brother,  is  our  prayer ; — 

Remember  the  Berean  band. 

When  to  the  Throne  thou  dost  repair. 
1844. 


273 


THE  PASTOR'S  WELCOME. 

Watchman,  take  thy  happy  station, 
On  this  tower  of  Zion  stand, 

And  proclaim  the  great  salvation, 
Which  the  love  of  souls  demand  ; 

Jesus,  bless  this  new  relation, 
Pastor,  and  thy  chosen  band ! 

Watchman,  from  the  heights  of  Zion, 
View  the  field  of  labor  here  ; 

Hope,  the  promise  is  bespeaking, 
First  the  blade  and  then  the  ear. 

Toil  in  faith,  the  soil  is  breaking, 
Precious  fruit  will  soon  appear. 

Zion's  friends  will  gather  round  thee, 
To  sustain  thy  weary  hands  ; 

On  the  battlement  we  found  thee, 
Faithful  to  the  great  command. 

Preach  the  gospel,  Christ  is  with  thee, 
While  his  gracious  promise  stands. 

Welcome,  then  ;  our  heart's  affections 
Closely  round  thy  own  shall  twine : 

W^hile  we  hold  this  fond  connection, 
Spirit,  on  thy  Vineyard  shine  ! 

Bind  our  souls  in  sweet  subjection 

To  thy  will,  O  Lamb  divine ! 

12* 


274  the  pastor's  recognition. 


THE  PASTOR'S  RECOGNITION. 

Brother  !  here  with  joy  we  meet  you, 

As  the  leader  of  our  band  ; 
Here  with  heart  and  voice  we  greet  you, 

While  we  give  the  friendly  hand. 

Take  thy  stand  on  Zion's  tower — 
Give  the  trump  the  certain  sound — 

Wave  the  Cross — display  its  power — 
Tell  its  triumphs  all  around. 

As  the  children  of  one  Father, 

We  the  prayer  of  faith  will  wield, 

And  to  Christ  a  harvest  gather, 
Glorious,  from  the  waving  field. 

Thou  hast  left  the  tear-drop  stealing 
Down  the  cheeks  of  friends  most  dear- 

But  thou  comest,  with  noble  feeling, 
Burdens  with  us  here  to  bear. 

We,  a  cordial  welcome  give  you, 
Servant  of  our  glorious  King — 

May  his  grace  dwell  richly  with  you, 
And  his  arm  salvation  bring  ! 


a  m  t  b  t  t  r 


MARRIAGE. 

Marriage,  that  solemn  sacred  rite, 
Which  doth  the  happy  souls  unite, 

Was  blest  in  Adam's  holy  state, 
In  Eden,  with  his  lovely  mate. 

Sure  happiness  is  made  complete 

When  two  fond  hearts  in  union  meet, 

But  marriage  never  gives  true  rest 
When  love  is  absent  from  the  breast, 


LINES  TO  MY  HUSBAND, 

ON    THE    EIGHTH    ANNIVERSARY    OF    OUR    WEDDING    DAY. 

Eight  years  have  swiftly  passed  away 
Since  we  were  joined  in  holy  band, 

To  cheer  each  other  on  life's  way 
With  joyful  heart  and  willing  hand. 


276  UHX8    TO    MV    BDBBAHD. 

We  'Ye  toiled  amidst  the  sunny  bowers 
Of  >\veet  domestic  joy  and  bliss  ; 

V  .  no  with'ring  flowers, 

To  mar  each  other's  happiness. 

Dear  pledges  to  us  God  has  given, 

To  share  our  smiles,  increase  our  cares  ; 

Three  greet  us  now,  but  one  in  heaven 
A  spotless  robe  of  glory  wears. 

Sickness  and  pain  have  often  sought 
Our  humble,  peaceful  dwelling,  too ; 

But  still  the  hand  of  mercy  "s  brought 
A  balm  to  soothe  our  ev'ry  woe. 

And  soon  perchance  these  earthly  ties, 
Which  twine  so  closely  round  the  heart, 

Will  be  dissolved,  and  grief  will  rise. 
When  lov'd  ones  for  awhile  must  part. 

But  safe  on  yon  celestial  plain. 

May  we.  this  little  happy  band. 
With  Christ  the  blessed  Saviour  reign, 

And  take  u  no  more  the  parting  hand." 
Xe\t  York,  1840. 


LINES    TO    MY    ABSENT    HUSBAND. 

LINES  TO  MY  ABSENT  HUSBAND. 

I  'm  far  from  thee,  my  husband  clear, 

As  morning  streaks  the  sky ; 
And  softly  on  my  listening  ear, 

Sweet  music  passes  by. 
Each  bird  its  matin  homage  sings, 
And  to  my  mind  thy  image  brings, 
As  thou  dost  kneel  in  humble  prayer, 
Alone,  beside  my  vacant  chair. 

Far,  far  from  thee,  kind  voices  greet, 

And  smiling  friends  I  see ; 
But  one.  whose  voice  is  ever  sweet, 

Whose  smile  is  bliss  to  me — 
In  visions  bright  I  fondly  trace, 
And  feel  full  oft  his  warm  embrace, 
But  wake  to  find  it  all  a  gleam 
Of  memory,  on  life's  passing  stream. 

I  love  my  friends — my  youthful  home — 

That  home  with  joy  I  see  ! 
But  one  dear  spot  I  call  my  own, 

'T  is  paradise  to  me  ; 
'T  is  where  thy  kind  approving  smile, 
Lights  up  with  love  the  place,  the  while, 
We  meet  around  our  social  hearth, 
The  sweetest,  dearest  spot  on  earth. 
1852. 


277 


278  TO    MY    HUSBAND. 

TO  MY  HUSBAND, 

ON    THE    TWELFTH    ANNIVERSARY    OF    OUR    WEDDING    DAY. 

'T  is  even  so,  twelve  years  have  passed  since  I, 

My  childhood's  early  home  with  joy  did  leave, 

To  dwell  with  thee,  my  Love,  far  from  those  scenes, 

'Round  which  my  memory  still  most  fondly  clings. 

Bright,  happy,  sunny  spots, — I  left  them  all — 

My  kindred,  too,  I  left,  for  one  dearer 

Than  these,  bore  me  away  from  their  embrace. 

Well,  years  roll  on,  and  we  as  help-mates  yet, 

Each  other's  burdens  kindly  strive  to  bear ; 

And  dearer  now  art  thou  to  me,  since  I 

Thy  worth  have  known,  than  when  I  gave  to  thee 

My  youthful  hand  and  undivided  heart. 

Through  varied  scenes  our  pathway  since  has  been. 
We  've  smoothed  for  each  the  couch  of  pain,  pillowed 
The  aching  head,  and  felt  that  e'en  the  tear 
Of  sympathetic  love  could  lift  the  soul 
Up  to  the  gates  of  heavenly  paradise. 
Our  children  three  are  with  us  yet.     But  two, 
Our  sweet,  our  precious  babes,  tired  of  this  sad 
And  dreary  world,  have  early  sought  repose, 
And  in  that  bright  and  happy  land,  have  laid, 
Upon  the  Saviour's  breast,  their  weary  heads. 
'T  is  joy,  't  is  happiness  to  know  that  these 
Are  moored,  where  time's  tempestuous  waves 
May  never  beat  upon  their  fragile  barks, 


TO    MY    MOTHER.  279 

Our  pilgrimage,  perchance,  will  soon  be  o'er  ; 
These  ties  which  stronger  grow  as  years  depart, 
Will  severed  be,  but  love,  beyond  these  low 
And  dreary  skies  will  rise  in  perfect  bloom  ; 
And  in  the  broad  expanse  of  heavenly  day 
Will  speak  Jehovah's  endless  praise. 
There,  re-united  on  that  happy  shore, 
May  we,  with  those  whom  God  to  us  has  given, 
Adore  the  riches  of  that  sovereign  grace, 
Which  thither  led  our  weary,  wandering  feet. 
November,  1846. 


TO  MY  MOTHER. 

Mother,  Time  with  thee  is  flying, 
Age  has  furrowed  o'er  thy  cheek  ; 

Autumn  leaves  are  wan  and  dying. 
Loud  the  wintry  tempests  speak  ; 

Yet  pass  on  with  gentle  tread, 

Mother,  though  life's  charms  are  fled. 

Eighty  summers  must  have  lighted, 
Many  charms  to  thrill  thy  heart ; 

Eighty  winters  must  have  blighted, 
Joys  the  summers  did  impart ; 


280  TO    MY    MOTHER. 

Tott'ring  steps,  with  form  bent  low, 
Tell  thee,  mother,  this  is  so. 

Scarcely  now  do  I  remember, 

When  thy  raven  locks  were  fair ; 

For  I  know  in  life's  September, 
Silver  threads  were  in  thy  hair  ; 

When  I  laid  with  gentle  twirl 

On  thy  neck,  the  glossy  curl. 

Thou  didst  watch  life's  early  morning, 
With  a  mother's  tender  care  ; 

Mark  the  intellect's  first  dawning, 
When  my  childhood  grew  more  fair. 

Thoughts  like  these  my  bosom  thrill, 

Mother,  dear,  I  love  thee  still. 

Years  have  fled,  since  I  have  met  thee, 
And  perchance  we  meet  no  more ; 

But  night  visions  often  greet  me, 
Bringing  back  the  days  of  yore  ; 

Mother,  joys  of  love  had  birth, 

Round  my  childhood's  happy  hearth. 

Seas  of  sorrow  rudely  driven, 
Oft  thy  bark  has  sorely  tried ; 

Loved  ones  to  the  tomb  thou  'st  given, 
Still  thou  stem'st  the  ebbing  tide. 

Mother,  may  thy  setting  sun, 

Brighter  shine,  as  moments  run. 


FAREWELL    TO    MY    HUSBAND.  281 

Catch  the  evening  gale  that  's  passing, 
As  thou  near'st  the  distant  shore ; 

Sweeter  fragrance  there  is  wafting, 
Thy  worn  spirit  to  restore  ; 

Mother,  then  through  Jesus'  love, 

May  we  meet  in  realms  above. 
New  York,  July,  1854. 


FAREWELL  TO  MY  HUSBAND. 


WRITTEN   IN    SICKNESS,    EXPECTING    SOON    TO    BE    REMOVED    FROM    MY 
BELOVED    HUSBAND    AND    FAMILY. 


I  'm  thinking  of  the  time,  love, 
When  by  your  manly  side  ; 

I  stood  in  youthful  prime,  love, 
Your  happy,  trusting  bride. 

When  from  my  early  home,  love, 
You  bore  me  quick  away  ; 

And  took  me  to  your  own,  love, 
To  light  and  cheer  your  way. 

Ah !  those  were  happy  days,  love. 

And  mem'ry  still  can  dwell ! 
On  every  sunny  ray,  love, 

That  on  my  pathway  fell. 


282  FAREWELL    TO    MY    HUSBAND. 

E'en  now  when  slumber  steals,  love, 
O'er  this  poor,  feeble  frame  ; 

I  see  those  pleasant  fields,  love, 
And  range  that  flow'ry  plain. 

I  meet  your  smiling  face,  love, 
At  our  old  cottage  door ; 

And  in  thy  fond  embrace,  love, 
Those  happy  hours  live  o'er. 

And  often  when  the  charm,  love, 
Has  passed,  I  dry  the  tear ; 

And  fold  you  in  my  arms,  love, 
And  feel  you  still  are  dear. 

But  O !  we  soon  must  part,  love, 
And  bitter  tear-drops  roll ; 

Wrung  from  my  very  heart,  love, 
Yes,  from  my  inmost  soul. 

I  know  you  '11  lonely  be,  love, 
When  first  the  dark  cold  grave 

Shall  hide  my  body  from  thee, 
And  tears  thy  cheeks  will  lave. 

Thou  'It  miss  me  when  at  eve.  love, 
Thy  children  round  thee  cling, — 

They  "11  claim  a  right  to  grieve,  love, 
Ere  they  their  vesper  sing* 


FAREWELL    TO    MY    HUSBAND.  283 

They  '11  miss  their  mother's  voice,  love, 

When  pain  and  sorrow  rise ; 
They  '11  miss  that  gentle  hand,  love, 

That  dried  their  weeping  eyes. 

But  I  will  still  be  near,  love, 

If  God  will  this  permit ; 
And  bear  their  sighs  and  prayers,  love, 

Up  to  the  mercy  seat. 

O  !  may  our  children  dear,  love, 

Their  parents  God  obey  ; 
And  He  '11  befriend  them  here,  love, 

And  guide  their  lonely  way. 

Then  shall  we  meet  again,  love, 

A  family  in  heaven ; 
And  to  God's  blessed  name,  love, 

Shall  endless  praise  be  given. 

Soon,  soon  we  '11  meet  to  share,  love, 

The  joys  of  that  dear  home, — 
No  parting  tears  are  there,  love, 

And  "  farewells  are  unknown." 
1849. 


